Hope springs
by NancyMay
Summary: A story idea from HeartoftheWild. What happens when milk goes missing from the doorstep. What happens next changes Jean and Lucien's ideas of ways to welcome children into their home.
1. Chapter 1

Jean stretched, she rather liked being Mrs Blake, there were certain advantages, such as tea in bed in the morning, brought to her by her loving husband. There were other advantages too, perhaps not advantages as such more... ooh, what was the word? Whatever it was, she couldn't think of it at the moment, but it had to do with night time activities and not having to pull apart whenever Matthew stomped through the house, as he was wont to do.

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"Morning, my love," Lucien pushed the door open and carried the tea tray into the room, "how are we this morning?"

"I'm fine, darling," she fluttered her eyelashes at him, "you?"

"Oh I'm just dandy," he grinned, pushing the door shut with his backside, there was a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"Seriously, Jean," he sat on the bed and handed her, her tea, "are you alright?"

"Yes, Lucien, I suppose I should have expected it, really," she sighed, "but being told you are too old to adopt hurts. Well, when you are told quite so sharply, anyway."

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The previous day they had been to the Family Welfare people to discuss their application to be adoptive parents. It turned out Jean had been right to be worried, their application was gone through with a fine toothed comb and right at the end of the interview they had been told, quite firmly that as they were both over thirty five they would not be considered. They could be, perhaps, considered for fostering. When Jean had asked, trying hard to keep the hurt out of her voice, what did they mean by that?

"Well, a child would be placed with you until a permanent home could be found, or it was deemed acceptable for it to return to its natural family," the woman and huffed, "it could be a baby or a schoolchild, just whatever comes along."

Seeing how upset she was, Lucien had stood and offered his hand to his wife and said they would think about it.

At home she had cried, for the loss to them, for the child who could have had a loving home with them and for the heartless, cold way they seemed to deal with children.

Lucien was gentle with her, but angry at the callous way they had been allowed to go through process and then told they were too old. He had written a letter to the board suggesting that, rather than getting people's hopes up they should send a gently worded letter thanking the prospective parents for their interest but they only accepted applications from the under thirty fives. That way hopes would not dashed quite so cruelly as they had been for himself and his wife.

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"Much as I would like to give a child a loving home,' she leant back against the headboard, "I'm not sure I could give a child up, either to adoptive parents or its natural family, when the time came."

"Yes, that's it, isn't it?" he agreed, "it's the giving the child away, isn't it? Even long term fostering is not forever." He leant over and kissed her cheek.

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Life carried on much as before with no more talk of children or adoption or fostering. Matthew and Alice agreed, privately that it was a crying shame their friends couldn't adopt.

"I really don't see what age has to do with it," Alice had huffed over a quiet coffee with her not quite lover, "I mean women of Jean's age still have babies, admittedly not often, and there is a higher risk of miscarriage or disability. But they have a good home, are well enough off to support said child, and to top it all off, a lot of love to give."

"Yeah,' Matthew grunted, "well unless you find one abandoned under a hedge, they are not going to have a child."

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Jean looked down at the doorstep and shrugged her shoulders, "Lucien!" she called into the house, "did you bring the milk in?"

"What?" he appeared at the far end of the hall, "no, why?"

"Looks like we didn't get any this morning," she closed the door, "I'll have to ring."

"Well, I assure you," she said down the phone, "there's none on the step."

She put the phone down after being assured that milk had been left on the step, along with the loaf of bread she had ordered. So, if the note had been read then they must have called. She'd have to get some in town when she went shopping, but for now, no toast for breakfast and only enough milk for her tea. Thank heavens Lucien didn't take it.

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Over the course of the next week, milk and bread disappeared from the doorstep, and a couple of small hand towels off the washing line.

"I can't understand it, Lucien," Jean looked frustrated, "I mean it happens, once in a blue moon, when there are travellers in town, or the fair is around, but there's none of that going on, and," she put her cup down, "I am sure there were some apples ready on the tree, and they haven't dropped."

Lucien sat back in his chair and scratched his head, "What do you want to do? Call the police?"

"Well, not really, it's petty theft and I'm sure they have better things to do than find a milk and apple thief," she sighed, "though perhaps we could tell Matthew, he does live here, after all."

"Ok, let's," he agreed, "see what he suggests."

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"Man traps?" Matthew grinned, "stake out, trip wires, sniper?"

"Matthew," Jean hit his shoulder as he sat at the table finishing his dinner, "be sensible."

"Right, sorry, it's been a quiet week," he wiped the last of the sauce up with the last of his potato. "When do you reckon it's happening?"

"Very early morning, as the milk is going missing," she mused, "they're very quiet though, I've never heard anyone in the tree. I left the washing on the line when I went shopping, but that's not unusual. When I came back the two towels had gone."

They sat each thinking of ways to catch whoever was making free with the doorstop deliveries. Nobody else had reported anything like it happening.

Jean tidied the plates away and looked at the small piece of boiled ham left and had an idea. Instead of trying to catch whoever it was she would try and entice them to be bolder. In the fridge she found some cheese, a tomato and a slice of apple pie. She put all these things, with the ham on a plate and added an orange.

"What's that for?" Lucien asked as he began to wash up.

"The thief," she grinned.

"Jean!" he gasped.

"They only take milk and bread, so they are unable to feed themselves," she reasoned, "they haven't broken in and taken anything of value, so I think we need to find out why."

"So..?"

"I'm going to leave this plate out, before I go to bed," she covered it with a tea towel, "and see if it's taken. Then I'm going to watch through my old bedroom window and see who is taking the apples."

"Then follow them?" he raised his eyebrows.

"Unless they're built like football players, yes," she nodded.

"Not on your own, you're not," he huffed but smiled at her ingenuity and generosity. "I shall accompany you," he bowed politely as she looked at him with an "I am quite capable of looking after myself," kind of expression.

"If you must," she put the plate on the table ready.

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In the morning the plate had disappeared, along with a bottle of milk, Jean had ordered an extra one just in case, and the tea towel, but the loaf was left.

"Mmm..." Jean mused, "so they didn't need the bread, that's interesting."

"What?" Lucien appeared behind her, "oh, your plan is working?"

"It's interesting that the bread didn't go, this time," Jean picked up the remaining bottles, "and they took the cloth."

He held out his hands for the milk and they headed inside.

"Don't suppose they'll need apples today," Lucien looked out onto the garden at the tree. It was laden with fruit not quite ready for picking, yet, which Jean pointed out, but some she could cook with.

"The ones they took were only just ripe, probably a bit tart still," she started to fry some bacon for the breakfast, "I'll have a look round and see if they dropped them."

"After tasting them?" he put the knives and forks out, "I suppose so."

"Depends how desperate they are for food," Jean sighed, "I hate to think of someone that needs food that badly." She turned and he saw tears in her eyes.

"We'll catch them," he put his hands on her arms, "and help them, if we can." He kissed the top of her head, "as you say, it's petty theft, not breaking and entering."

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Jean hung the washing out and took the time to look around the garden. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but she was going to do some gardening and she might see something that would indicate night time visitors.

She weeded and pruned, but saw no footprints, or broken stems. Whoever it was, was running across the grass, so they were coming round the side of the house. She decided she would get up before the milk was delivered then next morning and sit in the one room that overlooked the porch. Now, what to leave out, tonight?

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Lucien wasn't sure of the wisdom of her plan and insisted he would get up with her.

"We can follow them, at a safe distance," he told her as she plated up some cold chicken, left over vegetables and a piece of cake, "find out who they are, and how many there are."

Jean smiled and agreed, she was an early riser and he could cope with little sleep, though he slept better than he ever had, since they married.

"I'll alert the station," Matthew told them, "you can call Danny and Bill. I'm afraid I'm er... otherwise engaged on a... erm... case, tonight."

"It's alright, Matthew," Jean laughed, "we know you're having a drink with Alice. It's not an official case or complaint."

Matthew blushed and cleared his throat, hastily leaving the room as Lucien roared with laughter.

"Lucien," Jean warned, "don't, and don't go spreading rumours. I'm glad for them, however it turns out."

"For both of them, Jean," he leant over and kissed her cheek, "they both deserve a little love."

"They do, and..." she looked coyly from under her lashes, "if he's out for the evening, how about an early night, as we have to be up very early."

"Can I help you clear away," he grinned, "you know, get tidied up and..."

"You don't take much persuading, do you?" she laughed.

"I'll light the fire in the studio, shall I?"

"That's a good idea," she took the plate, covered it with one of her older tea towels, and headed up the hall. He heard her tell Matthew to have a good evening, knowing they were unlikely to see him until the morning, if he came home at all, and went to light the fire.

She locked the door and headed to their room, the old studio. Perhaps he could be persuaded to scrub her back in the bath, while the fire got going.

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Lucien was easily persuaded, when it came to scrubbing her back, and, not for the first time, she was pleased with her suggestion they have one of the side rooms turned into a bathroom, with a slightly larger bath than was usual.

He slowly brushed the sponge over her shoulders and down her back with just enough pressure to make it a light massage. She hummed in appreciation and aahed as the sponge passed lightly over her breasts and his free hand slipped over her stomach and down until she squeaked when his fingers found that little spot that gave her so much pleasure. She didn't need to open her eyes to know he was naked and smiled as she felt him climb into the bath with her.

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There were times she couldn't believe she allowed her husband in the bathroom when she was in the bath, much less actually in the bath with her. The fact that they frequently made love in the bath and the water would go cold before they got out and he wrapped her in a warm fluffy towel made her wonder how ordinary, loving, but ordinary, life had been with Christopher.

They ended up on the rug in front of the fire and made love again under the gold stars on the ceiling. Jean said it was their own personal universe and she never tired of looking at it especially as stars were added when he took her over the edge in a heart-bursting climax.

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Jean wrapped her hands round her cup of tea as she watched the milk float disappear down the road, the horse plodding lazily as Ned walked beside him. The early morning light missed the porch which was probably why the thief chose their milk to steal. Lucien sat next to her by the window, but they were both out of sight. His arms were round her and he was nibbling her earlobe,

"Lucien," she hissed, " that isn't helping."

He grinned, kissed her and resumed watching the drive.

"There," he pointed to the edge of the drive, a small figure was keeping to the borders, "he'll trample your plants."

"I don't think I'm bothered about that at the moment," she angled her head a little but couldn't see anything until the figure, bent double, snaked through the small gap left when the milk had been delivered. "A child!"

"Shh..." Lucien pulled her away, "we need to see what he does now."

From what they could see it was a small boy, about five, at the most, dirty, torn clothes, Jean bit her lip at the state he was in. They watched him pick up the plate and check the contents, then grab a bottle of milk and sneak away again.

"Right, give him chance to get to the end of the drive," Lucien whispered, passing her the coat she had put ready, "we need to see where he goes."

From their vantage point they could see him cross the road, which is when Lucien judged they could safely follow without scaring him.

"They're away, across the road," Jean turned, "well, the son took Mary away for a holiday, she said they'd be away until next week. I hope he hasn't broken in."

"Come on," he pulled her behind him and they crossed over to the front of Mary's house and crept round the outside. There was no sign of any broken windows and the doors were locked.

Jean tugged his hand and pointed to a corner of the garden. Mary wasn't much of a gardener, and as she had got older just had a boy come and cut the grass for her. The mower was kept in the shed, a tumbledown affair, only just water tight and no lock on the door.

They tiptoed to the shed and stood listening. A faint murmuring could be heard coupled with a sniff and the scraping of a bucket on the floor. Lucien looked at Jean and she nodded as he put his hand on the latch,

"Slowly," she mouthed. He nodded and quietly pulled the door open and whistled softly. Two pairs of wide blue eyes stared at them and the little boy they had seen put his arms up to block the beating he thought he was about to get.

Jean gasped and put her hand to her mouth. She advanced a step but the boy shuffled back.

"It's alright," she murmured softly, "I won't hurt you." She did her best not to gag at the stench, they'd obviously used the bucket as a toilet, or he had, the other pair of eyes belonged to a little girl, not yet out of nappies, which is why Jean was missing some hand towels. They were filthy, starving and terrified. "My name's Mrs Blake," she whispered, "this is my husband, Dr Blake."

The little boy looked from one to the other, grown-ups weren't suppose to be nice. In his world they hit you and yelled at you and each other.

"What's your name, son?" Lucien asked gently, "we've told you ours."

"Ted," the boy whispered, "this is Julia," he pulled the baby close to him.

"Why are you here? Where are your parents?" Jean crouched down.

"Not going back!" Ted shouted, "not to be beat, again."

"We won't let you be beaten," Lucien squatted next to his wife, aghast at the mere thought of beating a child. "How old are you, Ted?"

"Five, near six," he pulled himself up with pride.

"Julia?" Jean asked, "she doesn't look as if she's one, yet."

"Just about, missus," he nodded, "though I can't really say."

Jean stood up and pulled Lucien to the doorway.

"We can't leave them," she hissed, "we have to do something."

"What? Call Family Welfare?"

"Eventually," she hated the thought, "how about we take them back to the house, feed them properly and see to the baby."

"Right, then what? You don't like the idea of long term fostering," he muttered.

"Right now, I think the children are more important than my feelings," she hissed back. "Julia has rampant nappy rash, they are both undernourished and if we leave them here..."

It didn't bear thinking about.


	2. Chapter 2

"Ted," Lucien turned round and smiled, "how about you and Julia come with us, eh?"

Ted shrank back further into the shed.

"Ted," Jean sighed, "Julia has a sore bottom, you are hungry and could do with a bath, at least let us do this for you. We won't force you to go home.."

Lucien coughed slightly.

"...we won't make you go home," she repeated, "we want to help you."

"Why?" the boy whispered.

"Because we don't like people being hurt, Ted," Jean smiled, "Dr Blake works with the police to stop that... and you seem to like my cooking." She smiled.

"The pie was bonzer," Ted smiled, almost shyly.

"I'm sure I can make another, sometime," she held out her hand.

All the while this discourse had been taking place, Julia had been watching. Jean and Lucien's quiet, gentle voices had calmed her and assured her, she was too young to know that adults could use their voices to hurt; all she heard was softness, kindness, love. She crawled over to Jean and held her arms up. A dirty, smelly object with eyes as big as saucers and curls begging for ribbons, Jean took off her coat and wrapped it round the baby and lifted her into her arms. Ted watched and it seemed to him that, for once, his baby sister had made the decision for him, just as he had done for her, the last time his father had lashed out in a drunken rage and sent him flying across the kitchen.

Lucien held out his hand to Ted, and waited...

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Ted looked round the hall and firmly wiped his muddy boots on the mat. Lucien looked at his wife and with his free hand mimed 'phone'. She nodded slightly and held out her hand for Ted,

"Bath, first, Ted," she smiled, "then, milk, eggs, toast. What do you think to that?"

Ted nodded and went with her and Julia to their bathroom where she ran a warm bath and even put some bubbles in. It would die with the shampoo and soap but that didn't matter, children should have bubbles.

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Ted squealed, at first with horror then, the squeals became laughter and Julia splashed the water and bubbles over her brother, and her saviour. Jean wrapped them in towels and smiled to see Ted's hair was golden, almost like her husband's and Julia's was red-gold, and despite being underweight, almost scrawny in Ted's case, they were lovely looking children. Without nappies for Julia Jean made do, as Ted had, with a hand towel after slathering the baby's bottom with a goodly layer of cream for the red rash.

She had no clothes for such small persons so Ted made do with one of Jean's soft short sleeved sweaters and Jean wrapped Julia in a blanket.

"Right, you two," she laughed, "a proper breakfast, hot from the stove."

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Lucien listened to the woman from Family Welfare, sadly the one who had been so off hand with them over their application to adopt, fluster and bluster about how they couldn't keep tabs on all the dysfunctional families and what did he expect her to do about it? Nobody had reported them.

"Frankly, madam," he groaned, "I could ask the same of you. Now, at the moment my wife, who you dismissed as too old to care for young children, is giving them a hot meal and drink, has bathed them and wrapped them in whatever she could find to keep them warm. So, perhaps you could assign a case worker, as you said you would if we were to foster, to come and see them and find out where their parents are and whether or not the little lad was right to remove his baby sister from the home."

He listened again to the huffy reply about some people getting above themselves and cut her off,

"Madam," his temper was rising now, "I might remind you I am a doctor and a police surgeon, and can recommend that the family are looked into," though he wasn't too sure about the last part, "and Family Welfare's part in the case...these children are neglected and abused, from what I can tell. I expect your representative within the hour." He put the receiver back in its cradle rather firmly.

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Ted was hungrily shovelling eggs into his mouth at the kitchen table, Jean had Julia on her lap and was patiently feeding her, it was a sight that almost broke his heart, this is what his house should be like. It was lovely as it was, with Jean, his wife, at his side, and the numerous friends that called or dined with them, but it was a rambling house that should have children running about it. Perhaps long term fostering was not such a bad idea after all, perhaps they could start with this little tyke and his sister.

Jean looked up and smiled.

"I've called Welfare..." he sat next to Ted whose mouth had dropped open, "don't worry Ted; we told you, we are going to help you; and told them I expect someone within the hour. Can't say she was very pleasant. Now, my boy," he turned to Ted, "I need you to say where you live and what your parents are called. That's all."

Ted nodded, but he didn't look convinced.

"How's Julia?" Lucien looked over at Jean.

"Underweight, she's eaten a plate of scrambled egg, some toast and had some milk," Jean smiled and stroked the baby's head. "Dreadful nappy rash."

"Right, well I bow to your experience on that, I can make up some cream for her but..."

Jean smiled, "...she'll need changing frequently, but that means we need nappies, as well as other clothes for them both."

"Right, well let's hope the Welfare Officer arrives soon and we can sort it out."

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While Ted, Lucien and a very young social worker were in the study Jean put the, now sleeping, baby on a blanket on the couch, a chair pulled up to stop her rolling off. She set to washing the breakfast pots and making a list of things she would need for the children. She had the same thoughts as Lucien about long term fostering for these two; they had obviously been severely neglected, she seriously doubted Ted had been enrolled in school.

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The young social worker, Bryan Cross, was new to Ballarat and to his post. He seemed to get all the no-hopers, the worst cases and when Ted told him where he lived, by description rather than address, his heart sank. He'd been sent out to that area several times by the director. There was one house, and he was sure that was where Ted and his family lived, that the police were called out to recently, a domestic dispute, the husband had come home drunk, to find no dinner on the table and he had set about his wife and threatened the children. The neighbours had called it in but when the police got there, a certain Senior Sergeant W Hobart, there was no sign of any children but the man was arrested and charged with a disorder offence. Ted nodded and said that was when he had run away, with Julia.

"He's belted me before," he jutted his chin out, defiantly, "but he weren't going to hurt Julia."

Lucien smiled at the thought of a five year old defending his sister.

"Well it's clear to me," Bryan sat a little straighter, he thought Dr Blake would support his decision, "you can't go back there. It's also clear, doctor, that they would be hard pressed to find someone more suitable to care for them than you and your wife."

"I take it you mean foster them?" Lucien sat back, his hand on Ted's shoulder.

"With what I know and the police report it would be long term," he confirmed. "Miss Gray tells me she refused your application to become adoptive parents," that wasn't all she had told him, most of it wasn't particularly complimentary, interfering so and so, was her description, but Bryan liked him, "but had suggested fostering."

"We weren't sure," Lucien admitted, "my wife is unsure about whether or not she would be able to let go, if she had to."

"Personally, and between you and me, Dr Blake, I doubt this will happen in this case. The man has a police record, is violent and drinks to excess, not what I'd call parent material."

"Shall we join my wife?" Lucien stood up, "I'm sure the kettle will be on."

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Round the kitchen table, over tea, Bryan explained to Dr and Mrs Blake, and Ted, what it would mean to all of them, that the children would be placed with them, there would be regular checks on the children's wellbeing, that they were acting in loco parentis, a financial allowance would be made to them to take account of the extra costs involved, food, clothing, medical care etcetera.

"We're not in it for the money," Jean muttered, "it's the children that matter, here."

"Sadly, Mrs Blake," Bryan noted, "some people are in it for the money, but I am quite certain that you will care for these children as if they are your own."

"Does it start from now?" Jean pushed aside the thought that people would use children for monetary gain.

"Just got to fill in the paperwork," he pulled a file out of his briefcase, "but I would like to ask Ted if he's happy with this idea." He felt sure Miss Gray would not bother to ask a child, but they had just sat round a table discussing his future, in front of him, it only seemed right, somehow.

Ted had been listening to all that had been said and thought he had the gist of it but there was one question he needed to ask:

"Will we get the belt," he looked from one to the other, "will you get in drink an' thrash us?" he looked directly at Lucien.

"No, son, there will be no beatings," Lucien replied, a lump in his throat, "we will try to explain to you if we think you have done something wrong, but, I promise, I will never lift my hand to you."

"Or her?" he nodded at Jean.

"Absolutely not!" Lucien stated, firmly.

"Ok, then," he held out his small hand, "deal."

Jean grinned, "Cheeky monkey," but Lucien solemnly shook his hand, "deal."

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They filled in the paperwork, Bryan said he would get the birth dates of the children for them, then Jean asked Lucien if he was alright to stay with the children while she went into town, she had some shopping to do.

"Perhaps you and Ted could decide which room they should have," she shrugged on a coat, the one she had used that morning would have to go, "remember, we'll need room for a cot, for Julia."

"Right ho!" Lucien grinned, "we can do that, can't we, Ted?"

"I guess so."

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Jean got some 'looks' when she purchased two dozen nappies and waterproof pants. Nobody was brave enough to ask. She went into the children's outfitters and selected a full wardrobe for both children, though she would have to bring them both into town for shoes; then into the baby supplies shop and asked if they had a cot available, immediately, and a pushchair.

"Only the display one, madam," the shop owner nodded to a cot in the window. It was white, had a mattress, probably needed at least a wipe down, but it was a good cot and she needed one there and then.

"That would do nicely," she smiled sweetly at him, "we are fostering a little boy and his baby sister, and they have already arrived, the pushchair?"

"Over here, madam," he showed her a small selection from which she chose one that she could get any shopping on and that Ted could ride on if he got tired when they were out.

"I can reduce the price, madam," he nodded, "it has been touched, examined."

"Thank you, could you deliver it, to Dr Blake's house, today," she wrote out the cheque.

"I'll see to it personally, Mrs Blake," he read the name on the cheque, "will there be someone in all day? It will probably be around lunchtime."

"Lovely," she shook his hand and left, heading to the grocers, two extra hungry mouths to feed meant she had to top up the cupboards. It was turning into an expensive day, thank goodness the practice was doing well, though she supposed she could claim some of the money back from the Welfare fund.

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Bryan had just arrived to pass the birth date information on when she pulled onto the drive. He also had further information on the family.

"Mrs Blake," he smiled, opening the car door for her, "shopping?"

"We didn't have the things the children needed, clothes, a cot and a stroller," she opened the boot of the car, "and I needed to get some groceries."

"Let me give you a hand," he lifted a parcel and held out his hand for another.

"Thank you, Bryan," she passed him the nappies, "I suppose this means you are our case worker?"

"I am," he grinned, "you'll see quite a lot of me to start with, then maybe not so much."

"Right," she opened the door, "Lucien, Ted!"

They appeared by the kitchen, Lucien had Julia in his arms, that was the first thing she needed to do, dress her properly and Ted, too.

Lucien went to relieve her of her load, passing a small parcel to Ted, "We've decided on my old room," there is room for a cot even with the double bed."

"I'll get lost in it, Mrs Blake," Ted, wide eyed with wonder, gasped, "there's room for a whole family in it."

She laughed, "Would it be better to change it for a smaller one, then you and Julia will have room to play on the floor. There's a single in Charlie's old room, Lucien, but the double would fit in there."

"Want some help, doctor?" Bryan smiled, placing his parcels on the kitchen table, "after all I am supposed to check the accommodation is suitable for the children," he took his jacket off.

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Jean took Julia and changed her into a proper nappy, pants and vest, topped off by a pretty navy blue dress and cardigan, and white tights.

"Now then, young man," she looked at Ted, still in her top, "let's have you dressed properly." She opened another parcel. He didn't seem in the slightest bit bothered she had dressed his sister first, had examined all the things she had bought for her, and had even chosen her outfit. She handed him a pair of cotton boxer shorts, "underwear, Ted, put them on sweetheart and then this," she held out a singlet. Everything she handed him he put on in silence, smoothing down each item, the socks, the brown, cotton trousers, the check shirt and the cream jumper, he just stared in awe. Jean straightened the jumper and fastened a belt on his trousers then smiled.

"Much better, Ted," she patted his head, "I'll cut your hair later. Shall we go and show the doctor how smart you look."

He nodded and gulped, "Mrs Blake?" he whispered, "are these really for me, forever?"

"Well, 'til you grow out of them and need bigger, but yes, they are your clothes," she indicated the rest of the parcels, "there are others, too, and pyjamas for night time."

"Wow!" he breathed, then flung his arms round her hips, "thank you."

"My pleasure, Ted." She put her hand on his shoulder and guided him to the bedroom where Bryan and Lucien were putting Charlie's single bed back together.

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Bryan was just sliding the mattress onto the bed when Jean and the children looked in. The room seemed so much bigger now, and she noticed she needed to vacuum where the bed had been, there was a strip of dust that she hadn't been able to reach with the cleaner.

"Where's the doctor?" she couldn't see her husband in the room.

"Right behind you," the familiar voice floated over her head, "just went for some bed linen. Now," he looked down at Ted, "who might this be?"

Ted giggled, "It's me, Dr Blake, Ted," the lad stood straight and proud, "Mrs Blake, she got me these."

"And very smart you look too, Ted," he grinned, "and doesn't Julia look pretty?"

"Yep!" Ted nodded in agreement.

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In the kitchen Jean made tea for the adults and poured juice for Ted and a cup of milk for Julia, while they looked over the birth dates and discussed the idea of a school for Ted. Ted didn't look too impressed at the idea but Jean said she would explain things to him later, she knew it would be difficult for him to adjust to so many changes in his life.

"Julia will be a year old in six weeks time," Bryan told them, "Ted, Edward, is nearly six, his birthday is April tenth, the surname is Ramsay."

"Right," Jean pulled the calendar down and made a note, "wouldn't do to forget, would it?" she smiled over at Ted. He wouldn't know, nobody ever did anything special on that day.

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With the arrival of the cot, lunch and juggling surgery and the children neither Jean or Lucien had time to think about the long term implications of two children suddenly invading their lives. Of course they had thought about what it would mean if they were to adopt but they would have had time to sort things out first.

As Jean was preparing dinner, enlisting Ted's 'help' to keep him occupied the phone rang. The last thing she needed was a call out for Lucien.

"Dr Blake's surgery," she trilled down the receiver, "oh, Matthew, do you need Lucien?"

"No, Jean, just wanted to let you know I'm going to be late tonight," Matthew sighed at the thought of missing one of Jean's meals, "work," he added before she thought he was taking Alice out. A nice idea but, not tonight. "Got to process a disturbance and arrest. Young social worker got a thumping when he went to tell a pair their children had been taken into care."

"That wouldn't be Bryan Cross would it?" Jean had a horrible thought.

"Yeah, know him?"

"He's our case worker. The children are here, Matthew..."

"...the milk thief?"

"We'll explain later, just know that there is a little boy, Ted and a baby girl, Julia sleeping in Lucien's old room." She didn't want him to find them by accident and think she was indulging in kidnapping. "Is Bryan alright?"

"Black eye, broken nose some other bruising. He's been checked over at the hospital and sent home," he informed her.

"I'll save you some dinner." She signed off, it looked like Ted had escaped the worst kind of home-life.

She turned back to Ted and the half prepared roast. "Come on, Ted, let's get this done then you can come and hold the basket while I see if there are any apples ready to be made into a pie."

Ted's eyes lit up.

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There were indeed enough apples to make a pie and enough milk left for custard.

Ted ate another good meal, cleaning his plate so well that Lucien joked it wouldn't need washing. Jean had Julia on her knee again which prompted Lucien to suggest that she see if she could find a high chair the next day.

"I'll have a look round," she agreed, "I must admit I didn't see one, but I could take the children for a walk into town tomorrow."

"Lovely," he smiled.

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Jean checked the children, fast asleep, then headed to the studio and bed. As she undressed and changed into a nightdress she suddenly realised how tired she felt. A very early morning, coupled with so much activity during the day had drained her. She poked her nose into the study where Lucien was reading through some of the paperwork Bryan had left.

"Lucien," she whispered, "I'm going to bed."

He looked up and smiled; no make-up, just a thin cotton nightdress, she looked lovely.

"Be right there, I've just had a quick look at the paperwork, Bryan has slipped a claim form in, for the expenses," he waved a sheet of paper, "the furniture at least, love."

"Yes, we should, shouldn't we," she sighed, "I have the receipts." She padded, barefoot, over to him and kissed him. "Don't be too long."

"I won't," he returned the kiss then watched her pad back and out to the bedroom.

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He was interrupted by Matthew trying, and failing, to come in quietly. The charging of Ted's father had been a long drawn out process due, in part, to the fact he was roaring drunk. In the end they had decided to let him stew in the cells for the night and finish off in the morning.

"Matthew?" Lucien looked up the hall, "long day?"

"Bloody long," the Superintendant hissed back.

"Jean's left you some dinner, whisky?"

"Oh god, please," he grunted and stomped to the kitchen.

The dinner was plated in the oven and still warm enough to eat. Matthew would have eaten it cold he was so hungry, he'd had no lunch.

"Now," he said between mouthfuls of roast pork and potatoes, "what's this Jean said about two kids in the house?"

Lucien smiled and told him how they had found Ted and his sister in the shed over the road, how, on the spur of the moment they had decided the children could not be sent back to their parents, and had, by chance, ended up as foster parents to the two children.

"It's all been done officially, Lawson," Lucien took a mouthful of his own whisky, "even though we didn't think we could take on children we may have to give away again, somehow, and Bryan agrees, we don't think these two will be going anywhere, long term fostering."

"So not a lot of thought before hand, then?" Matthew could see some sort of worry, perhaps in his friend's face.

"No," Lucien admitted, "only now do I have the time to think on the enormity of the situation. Going for adoption meant we had time to consider how we would go forward, we haven't had time to think how two children are going to affect our lives, the running of the house..."

"...and now?"

"Well... we'll see how we work it, we managed surgery today because Julia was napping and Ted was content to sit with Jean."

"Right," Matthew stood up and went to wash his plate, "well, I'm off to bed, been a long day."

"Me too," Lucien smiled and headed to the bedroom.

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Jean was asleep when he got into bed but she turned and curled into his side, snuffling against his chest. He put his arm round her and kissed the top of her head. Jean always seemed to cope, take things in her stride, but he needed to think about what they were going to do, how he was going to cope. Ted was almost the age Li had been when he lost contact during the war. He could probably connect more with Julia than Ted, but he couldn't leave the boy to one side. He had patients who were children, and he managed them, but they were gone within fifteen to twenty minutes, they weren't with him all day, and every day. Ted would need guidance, love, support, not just feeding and clothing. He needed to be a father figure to him, but he wasn't sure he knew how. He sighed heavily.

"Mmph?" Jean opened one sleepy eye, "Lucien?" She knew that sigh, it was his, 'oh bugger, what do I do now' sigh.

"Sorry," he whispered, "I didn't mean to wake you."

"What's the matter?" she pushed her hair out of the way and looked up into his troubled face.

"Nothing," he lied.

"Lucien," she lifted herself onto her elbow and looked down on him, "I know you. There's something bothering you."

"I was just thinking," he looked at her, he knew he couldn't hide, "I'm not sure I know how to be the person Ted needs."

"What do you mean?" she gasped, "today you were exactly the person he needed."

"That was one day, and we had so much to do, I didn't spend time with him."

"Many days, Lucien, my darling," she leant over and kissed him lightly, "you will be busy, cases, surgery, I can explain that to him. He needs to learn how to be a son, you need to learn how to be a father, you will both learn together. You did the one thing he wanted, needed, today, told him you would not harm him, Julia or me. Sometimes you will just need to be with him and listen, perhaps help him with his schoolwork, kick a ball about in the garden with him. Just be you, darling, loveable, charming you." She snuggled down again and closed her eyes.

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So, will Lucien be the father Ted needs or will all his memories of missing Li growing up cloud his actions.


	3. Chapter 3

Lucien pushed the bedroom door open and smiled to see Ted and Julia still fast asleep. Ted had one hand flung onto the pillow and the other thrown across the covers. Jean hadn't got round to cutting his hair and the golden curls framed his face, Lucien thought he looked almost angelic, which worried him, angelic looking children often had 'interesting' character traits behind that look. Julia was in a similar state so he reckoned he and Jean could have their morning tea, as usual.

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"Lucien," Jean smiled as he came in with the tray, "good morning," she sat up and pushed her hair off her forehead. "Ooh, tea, lovely."

"Morning, beautiful," he sat on the edge of the bed, "the children are still asleep."

"Probably worn out, it was a big day for them, yesterday," she took the cup and leaned up to kiss his cheek.

"... and us," he sat back on his side of the bed and sipped his tea. "Are you sure it won't be too much?"

She turned and stared at him.

"Sorry," he grinned, "don't know what I was thinking."

"We all have to learn, Lucien," she sighed, "it won't be easy, life never is, but I won't give up on Ted and Julia. Some things happen for a reason and even though I don't know why they were sent to us I do know we are the best people to care for them."

"Last night, Jean," he inhaled deeply, "I told you my fears and you told me everything will be alright. Ted is the same age Li was when I lost contact with her. I missed her growing into the young woman she is now and I suppose that's why I am, not worried, but..."

"... concerned? Every day with my boys was a new day, with new challenges, not just when they were small but as they grew. I know I didn't get it right all of the time, but for Ted, and Julia, all we need to do is honour the promises we made yesterday, no hitting, just keeping them safe." She put her cup down and took his hands, "this is as new to us as it is to them. They have never had a loving home, a drunken father who beats his wife and children is all they know, Ted has witnessed things a child should not see. I love you, Lucien, let's show him what that means."

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Jean came out of the bathroom to find Lucien sitting on the edge of the bed, obviously deep in thought. She was worried she had thrown him into a world he knew nothing about and was, to all intents and purposes, drowning.

"Lucien?" she crossed the room to stand in front of him and put her hands on his shoulders, "thinking, again?"

"Just wondering what they should call us," he smiled, "I mean Dr and Mrs Blake is a bit too formal, don't you think? Jean and Lucien too informal, perhaps?"

"How about Aunty Jean and Uncle Lucien," she suggested, "of course I don't think Matthew will approve of being Uncle Matthew, but he can sort that out himself." She moved away and finished dressing while he mulled that over. Actually he quite liked the idea of Matthew having the same title, even more 'Aunty Alice'. A broad grin spread over his face.

"What are you grinning about?" Jean could see his expression in the mirror.

"If Matthew is 'Uncle Matthew' then Alice..." he smirked.

"Goodness, Lucien, do you have a death wish!" but she grinned as well, it would be interesting to see the pathologist's reaction to that!

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While Lucien started the breakfast, Jean woke the children and got them washed and dressed, telling Ted she would definitely cut his hair afterwards.

"Can you do it like Dr Blake's?" he asked, wincing as she struggled with a particularly stubborn knot.

"Sorry, Ted," she stroked the sore part, "yes, if you like, and you can call him 'Uncle Lucien', if you'd like to; as you're living here."

Ted turned round wide eyed, "Really?"

"Really, and you can call me 'Aunty Jean', if you want," she added, "it seems a bit stuffy to keep calling us Dr and Mrs Blake."

"Wow," he breathed, he'd thought yesterday had been a dream but it seemed not.

Jean smiled, his request to have his hair styled like Lucien's confirmed to her, that Lucien had nothing to worry about, Ted hero worshipped him.

"There is someone else who lives here, too," she thought she'd better warn him about a senior police officer, "Superintendant Lawson, a police officer."

"Oh, why?"

"Well, he needed a place to stay and he's a friend, so we said he could stay here," Jean picked up Julia and started to take her to the bathroom, "now, if you go to the kitchen, Uncle Lucien is making breakfast. I'm going to get Julia washed and dressed."

"Ok," Ted smiled, "Aunty Jean," he thought he'd test it, just in case. No adverse reaction so he headed out to test the 'Uncle Lucien' bit.

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Lucien was putting a plate of bacon and eggs in front of Matthew when Ted walked through. He looked across the table and smiled,

"Good morning, Ted," he greeted him, "breakfast?"

"Yes please... Uncle Lucien," he smiled shyly back, "good morning," he added thinking this was the correct response.

"This is Superintendant Lawson, Ted," Lucien indicated the man sitting at the table. "did Aunty Jean tell you he lives here too?"

"Yes, she did..." he looked at the man, he looked stern but Aunty Jean said he was s friend so he couldn't be that bad, perhaps..."good morning, sir."

"Good morning, Ted," Matthew swallowed a mouthful of egg, 'nice to meet you. Best call me Uncle Matthew, it seems to be the order of the house, 'sir' is a bit formal."

"Ok, Uncle Matthew," Ted climbed onto his chair as Lucien put bacon and egg in front of him and poured him a glass of milk. "Thank you."

"You're most welcome, Ted," Lucien nodded and took his own plate, sitting at his usual spot at the head of the table.

Lucien had asked Matthew not to discuss Ted's father in front of him, he already had a coloured view of him, no need to blacken his name even further.

"Well, he'll be up on assault charges, for what he did to Cross," Matthew had pointed out, "if Bryan comes here in the state he was in, he's bound to notice."

"Just let's leave it until he needs to know. Jean and I will talk to him about it."

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Jean came into the kitchen with Julia on her hip. She had dressed her in a green pinafore dress over a white blouse, matching knickers and white socks. She must have rummaged in her sewing box because a matching green ribbon tied the curls at the side of her face, Lucien and Ted grinned, Matthew's mouth dropped open, she reminded him of Rose as a little one.

"Good morning, Matthew," Jean smiled, "something wrong?"

"Er, no, she reminds me of someone," he swallowed.

"Rose?"

"Yeah, just like Rose," he grinned, "you've got your hands full there."

"Who's Rose?" Ted asked, as far as he knew there was no Rose in the house.

"Rose is my niece, Ted," he told the boy, "her hair is almost the same colour as Julia's."

"Does she live here?"

"No, mate, she's in Melbourne."

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Breakfast pots cleared away, Matthew and Lucien out to the station, Jean sat Ted in the kitchen with a towel round his shoulders and started to cut his hair. Julia crawled around the floor, picking up Ted's discarded curls, turning them round in her little hands then, after deciding they weren't edible, dropped them back on the floor. Unseen by either of the children, Jean did what she had done when she had cut the first curls off Jack and Christopher, placed one on the side, ready to be tied with a piece of cotton and stored somewhere safe. A silly, sentimental act, but to Jean something to remember her first fostering by when she was in her twilight years. She wasn't sure if she would ever do the same with Julia's curls, they needed to grow first and she thought she would probably tie them up with ribbons.

After sweeping the floor, with Ted's help; she wondered if he had been expected to do chores at home; she told them both they were going into town to find a high chair, shoes for them both and some things to keep them occupied when she was busy in the surgery or around the house. Mentally she thought of perhaps some wooden blocks, puzzles, colouring books and story books appropriate to Ted's age.

Ted had to wear the broken down boots he had on when they found him, but Jean told him that he could wear the pair she bought him, as soon as she had paid for them.

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Ted held onto the stroller, he'd rarely been in town, and certainly never into the shops Jean took him into.

The shoe shop wasn't too busy. The assistant measured Ted's feet and found a selection of footwear for him to try on. All he'd ever had before were a pair of old boots passed from a neighbour that never really fit him. To be allowed to try on shoes until he found a pair that were comfortable and suitable for school was beyond anything he could ever hope for, and when Jean told him he needed gym shoes for games as well, he thought his heart would burst. They chose a pair of black lace ups; Jean said she would show him how to tie the laces, and a pair of white gym shoes. He decided to wear the proper shoes out of the shop.

Jean chose a pair of white pram shoes for Julia, mainly, she said, to stop her taking her socks off. Once she started to walk she would bring her down for proper shoes to support her little feet.

As they left the shop they bumped into Susan and Harriet Tyneman pushing the baby in the pram. Susan, as usual looked impassively at Jean, but then raised her eyebrows at the two children she had with her.

"Good morning, Susan, Harriet," Jean greeted them pleasantly, "how are you?"

"Good morning, Jean," Susan managed to squeak out, still staring at Ted and Julia, "er... fine, and you?" She so wanted to know who's children Jean had with her.

"Very well, busy." Jean smiled then decided to put her out of her misery, 'this is Ted and Julia, they are staying with the doctor and I. Say good morning to Mrs Tyneman, Ted, dear."

"Good morning, Mrs Tyneman," Ted jutted his chin out, he thought this woman wasn't being very nice to Aunty Jean, by the tone of her voice.

"Er morning, Ted," Susan muttered.

Harriet hung back, Susan did her duty by her daughter in law only because of the baby, and the fact that said child had turned out to be a boy, to carry on the Tyneman line. They had argued about the name but on that Harriet had got her way and he was named James Edward, which was what she and Edward had chosen before his untimely death.

"Well, I'm sorry, ladies," Jean got ready to push the stroller, "I must head off, so many things to get before lunch. Enjoy your day."

Harriet watched her walk off in the direction of the Op Shop across the road,

"Wonder who's kids they really are," she mused, more to herself than her mother in law. Strangely she quite liked Jean Blake nowhere near as snooty as Susan and some of the other ladies whose company she endured at times.

"Heaven knows, and I don't care," Susan huffed, "probably being horribly philanthropic, knowing her."

Harriet shook her head, she thought she was probably just being kind and open hearted.

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Knowing they were unlikely to need a high chair for too long Jean thought she'd see if the Op Shop had one in, or a seat that would sit on a dining chair to raise the child up high enough to use the dining table.

"Hello, Mrs Beazley, no, it's Blake now, isn't it?" the shop owner smiled, "what can I do for you this fine day?"

"Hello, Mr Stanley," Jean grinned, his boys had played with her boys when they were children. "I was wondering if you would have a high chair around. The doctor and I are fostering Ted here, and his little sister, and at the moment Julia sits on my knee at mealtimes."

"Well now, how lovely for you Ted," he grinned at the boy whose eyes were wandering round the shop, "if I remember rightly Mrs Blake makes a rather good apple pie."

Ted nodded enthusiastically, "She does, mister," he grinned.

"Well, now, a high chair, eh?" he scratched his head and scanned the shop, then spotted something over in a corner. He picked his way over and while they waited Ted wandered over to a box from which was sticking out a toy wooden clock.

Out of the corner of her eyes she could see him and thought that it was probably a good place to find some toys and puzzles.

"Now, Mrs Blake," Mr Stanley brought an old wooden high chair, minus it's tray over to her. "Nothing wrong with this, still quite sturdy but no tray." He wiped it over with a rag from the pocket in his overalls.

Jean looked it over and put her hand on it, moving it to see if it had any wobble in it, but it did seem as he described it.

"It will push up to the table," she mused, "so the absence of a tray is no problem."

"Built to last, things like this," Mr Stanley stood back and let her examine the chair.

"Very much so, how much do you want for it?"

"Phew, well, er," he thought for a bit, looked up at the ceiling, out of the window, over to where Ted was still digging through the box of toys, turning a car over in his hands, eyes wide. Mr Stanley had a thought, "tell you what, five pounds and I'll throw in that box of toys for them. There's all sorts in there, cars, bricks..." Jean went to have a look. She saw wooden letters, a spinning top some puzzles, which probably had pieces missing, as well as the cars and bricks, and the clock.

"Alright," she agreed, "ok with you Ted?" she addressed the boy.

"These as well, Aunty Jean?" his mouth dropped open as he realised what she was doing, "really?"

"You must share with Julia, but yes, those as well," she smiled.

Ted just whistled.

Mr Stanley said he would drive up later in the day with the chair and the box, but Ted was allowed to take two cars with him.

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Jean's final bit of shopping was some magazines for the waiting room and a couple of colouring books and some pencils and crayons for Ted.

"Best head home, Ted," she tucked everything under the stroller seat, "lunch, then Uncle Lucien has surgery this afternoon."

"Ok," he, again, held the handle of the stroller, "Julia's asleep."

"Yes, she'll wake up for lunch though," Jean nodded, "oh look, there's Sergeant Hobart."

"Another copper?" Ted wondered how many policemen she knew.

"Yes, he works with Uncle Matthew," she drew level with the officer, "and, if ever you need someone to help you, you come here;...hello Sergeant," she smiled at Bill, "this is Ted, and Julia."

"Ah, the kids you've taken in, Mrs Blake," Bill grinned, "lucky you, Ted."

Ted looked up, it didn't matter how Bill smiled, he still looked fierce. He nodded.

"Sergeant Hobart will always help you, Ted, as will any of the other police officers here," Jean reassured him, "so if you're lost, or scared and Uncle Lucien and I aren't around, come here and they will help you."

"Ok," well so far she hadn't let him down so, for now, he'd believe her.

Jean could see he wasn't convinced, perhaps it would have been better if they'd bumped into Danny, but, though Bill maybe a little handy with his fists, she knew she could rely on him and so could the children.

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Jean was just putting a sandwich out for Ted, a bowl of chopped, cooked vegetables for Julia and some slices of fruit for both of them, when Lucien arrived back from the station. He looked somewhat grim, but managed a smile for the children and a kiss for Jean.

"I'll get you a sandwich, darling," she smiled, starting to stand.

"See to Julia first," he patted her shoulder and poured himself some tea. He sat next to Ted and smiled as he realised the boy had his hair cut like his. He looked at Jean and nodded slightly in Ted's direction. She smiled back and mouthed 'hero worship', then continued spooning the vegetables into Julia's apparently, permanently open mouth. He sat back, musing on this, that he thought he had done nothing for the boy, but obviously Ted thought different. Maybe Jean was right, after all, on child rearing he would have to bow to her better judgement. "So, Ted, my lad," he stretched, "what has Aunty Jean been up to this morning?"

"Well," Ted swallowed a bite of sandwich, "she took us to the Op Shop and we found a chair for Julia and a box of toys for us. 'n we saw Sergeant Hobart and Mrs Tyne... thingy," Jean smirked at this, "she wasn't very nice; and we got shoes, two pairs," his eyebrows shot up, "Uncle Lucien, do they really play games at school?"

"They do, son, footie, cricket, running and such like," Lucien smiled, recovering his composure at the boy's attempt to remember Susan's name, "so where are these toys?"

"Mr Stanley is bringing them later," Jean supplied, "but Ted has a couple of cars for now."

"... and the colouring things, Aunty Jean, don't forget those." Ted grinned.

"Yes, Ted," she nodded, "some colouring books, pencils and crayons, I thought Ted might like them while surgery is on."

"Well, sounds like you've had a busy morning," he ruffled Ted's hair and took Julia while Jean prepared his sandwich. He could have done it himself, but Jean liked to see him interact with the boy and be a little more 'hands on' with Julia.

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Mr Stanley arrived while Jean was changing Julia so Lucien showed him where the high chair needed to go and then, after tipping and thanking the man, he helped Ted sort through the box of toys.

"Well, young man," he smiled, lining up the last of the dozen or so toy cars, "looks like Aunty Jean has done you proud."

"Oh she has," Ted's eyes were bright with tears, Lucien put his arms round him and hugged him, "nobody's ever been this nice to us, Uncle Lucien," he sniffed, "dad said we was a pain and Juli dunno what." He wiped his nose on his sleeve, "I'm sorry I nicked your milk, but I'm a bit glad too."

"Ted, I'm rather glad you nicked our milk too," Lucien smiled gently, "we are going to look after you, I promise, see you get a good education, a good start in life." He looked down on the boy, "I had a little girl, once. During the war, I couldn't find her, after a battle. I found her only a few years ago, a grown up. I missed her growing up, Ted, so, if I get it wrong sometimes it's only because I'm new to this, but I'll do my best to be a good father to you, even if I'm not... your father, that is." It was a lot to admit to a nearly six year old, but Lucien felt Ted was really quite a clever boy and one day would look back on the words and understand what he was trying to say.

"We'll be right, Uncle Lucien, you 'n me 'n Julia 'n Aunty Jean," Ted murmured, "I know we will."

Lucien was touched by the confidence in the youngster, "deal?"

"Deal."

Jean had watched all this from the surgery doorway and wiped away several tears. There was a bonding here, two boys who had fathers who struggled to understand or connect with their sons, Lucien and Thomas, Ted and whatever his name was, but maybe, with that behind them they knew what not to do. Lucien would give Ted the hugs his father had not given him, and Ted would give him the love he couldn't give his own father. Fostering, no, these children were theirs, come what may.

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So, why was Lucien so grim when he came in for lunch? How will Ted adapt to school? How will school adapt to Ted and what will Ballarat think about Jean and Lucien taking in two children from 'the wrong side of the tracks?'


	4. Chapter 4

Jean set Julia in her cot for a nap, and Ted to some colouring while surgery was on. He was told he could go into the waiting room if he needed her but not into the consulting room. He was quite content with this, but Jean was sure that his contentment would eventually give way to curiosity, not today, but someday in the not too distant future.

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She was sitting in the waiting room, talking to Agnes Clasby, confirming what she had heard in town, when Ted poked his nose, hesitantly, round the door.

"Aunty Jean..." he whispered, waiting to be acknowledged,

"Excuse me, Agnes," Jean turned to him, "Yes, Ted?"

"Julia's awake, she's rattling the cot," he smiled.

"Thank you, dear," she smiled back, "would you excuse me, Agnes, I'd rather she didn't get upset."

"Of course," Agnes smiled at Jean and then to boy, "so you're Ted? Aunty Jean has told me all about you, I'm Miss Clasby," she held her hand out.

Ted advanced, and shook her hand, politely, "Hello, Miss Clasby."

"I'm here quite a lot, Ted, the doctor likes to keep an eye on me," she winked. He giggled, grown-ups didn't usually wink at him, he thought he might like her.

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It did not escaped Agnes' notice how like Lucien Ted was, in looks. Of course it was years ago, but there were rumours, well after Genevieve died. She, of course had never paid any attention to them, but perhaps she should have. A man could not be expected to be totally celibate after losing his wife; she was sure Lucien hadn't been; in the years between losing contact with Mei Lin and discovering Jean; there again, it could just be the hair colour and cut, many boys had that cut and there was no shortage of golden haired children about.

Jean reappeared with Julia, wide awake and changed. Agnes tried not to show her surprise, anyone new to town would automatically assume the children were Lucien's and Jean's, but so would the naysayers, the gossips, and they would spread rumours about Lucien if not the pair of them, again!

"Ted, would you keep Julia occupied with the toys, for a little while longer?" Jean smiled at the boy, "perhaps on the bedroom floor?"

"Yes, Aunty Jean," Ted tickled his sister's now bare foot. She drew it back and giggled, "come on, Julia."

Jean left Agnes again and put the children and some of the toys out for them, "Miss Clasby is the last patient, Ted," she stroked his head, "so I won't be too long."

"Ok," he was already making a tower of bricks for Julia to knock down.

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In the waiting room Agnes was wondering if she should point out the likeness to Lucien when Jean wandered back in.

"Lovely little lad, Jean," she noted casually.

"Yes, and," she grinned at her, "I know, he's a lot like Lucien, I had noticed, and yes, there are bound to be rumours," she sat down next to their oldest friend, "well, they are not his, they are not mine by him, of that I am positive, so we will have to just weather the usual I suppose."

Once upon a time, Jean would have worried about the rumours but it would appear that she was stronger than ever.

"Jean," Agnes sighed, "there were rumours, you know, about Thomas, sometime after Genevieve died."

"Why am I not surprised?" Jean rolled her eyes.

"I paid no attention, but..."

"If there were any truth to any rumour about Thomas, we'd rather hear it from you, Agnes," Jean hummed, effectively giving Agnes the go ahead to do some digging. "But he can't be Thomas' son, he could be his grandson, I suppose, but for the length of time I worked for Thomas there was never any indication he was seeing a woman, and nobody came to the house to see him other than patients, and there was no odd bequest in his will. If he had fathered a child he would have made sure they were alright, financially."

"What is the boy's surname?"

"Ramsay," Jean answered, "the father anyway, I've no idea about the mother, though she has been beaten by him." She told Agnes where they lived.

"Right, not the most salubrious of areas," Agnes said, thoughtfully, Thomas would have had an affair with someone of his own social standing.

Lucien chose that moment to call her through so they had no chance to finish the conversation but both knew that Lucien should not be told, yet. There could be nothing in it, anyway.

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Over the next few days they settled into routines with the children. Jean didn't hear from Agnes but was not bothered. Agnes would bring the whole story, if there was one, or nothing. Ted proved to be a quiet child, but Jean noticed he listened to the answer when he asked a question. As he had not been enrolled in school she was looking into which one would be the most suitable, but in the meantime she decided half an hour each day to start to learn his letters and numbers would be a good idea. The wooden letters in the box proved not to be a complete alphabet so on one of her shopping trips she picked up another set and a set of numbers, too. She made a game out of putting the letters in the right order and then singing the alphabet song, and she used a combination of the toy cars he had and the wooden numbers to help him learn to count and recognise written numbers. She also found a lined notepad and encouraged him to copy out the letters and write his name. The clock proved useful to teach him to tell the time, in fact he did so well that Lucien remarked she should have been a teacher.

"Just doing what I did with my boys," she shrugged her shoulders and carried on cooking the evening meal, "but he is quite bright, certainly ready to learn."

"Well, we should encourage it," he agreed, starting to set the table for her.

"We should, so you can read to him tonight," Jean tasted the sauce, "run your fingers under the words as you read, that way he will come to recognise them."

"Is that what you do?"

"Yes, and he's coming along. I don't want him to be too far behind his class mates when he starts school."

"Any decision, which I apologise for leaving you to sort out?" he moved behind her and wrapped his arms round her waist, nibbling her earlobe.

"Not St Patrick's," she giggled softly, "a little too, well... I just don't feel it is the right school for him. Perhaps Dana Street, it's small, I think he'd prefer something like that. I have a meeting booked with the principal tomorrow, if you're free. I'm taking Ted of course."

"Nothing planned, and I'm sure Alice can handle autopsy if needed," he kissed the back of her neck, "I suppose I should make it up to you, you know, leaving it to you, again!"

"I'm sure I can think of a way," she smirked.

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The children in bed, Jean sat on the couch and picked up her knitting, something for Julia, Lucien supposed. Whatever it was, was pink and lacy.

"Lucien," she lifted her head, "you looked a little, well, grumpy, when you came in, earlier. Was there something wrong?"

"Hm? Well, I didn't want to say anything in front of Ted, but it was his father," Lucien kept his voice low and shifted over to sit by her on the couch.

"Oh?" Jean put her knitting down, feeling she needed to concentrate.

"Well, he's an habitual drunk, that we know, violent to his wife and children, but it was something he said," he took a swallow of his whisky, "that Ted isn't his. He wasn't very complimentary about Pat, his wife. Said she got pregnant then told him about Ted. Julia is his but he doesn't care for her. Didn't want children, felt trapped."

"Oh," she breathed again, not sure what to make of this development.

"He says Pat is illegitimate too," he sipped his whisky again not noticing Jean's shocked expression.

"Does he know who her parents were?" Jean hesitated to ask.

"No, her mother, yes, a well to do lady who had an affair, but he doesn't know who with," he leant back, "just that she was thrown out by her husband and lived in a rundown area of Melbourne, Fitzroy, he thinks. Raised Pat there but told her, her family were in Ballarat. He met her in a brothel..."

Jean looked at him, now would be a good time for Agnes to ring and fill in the gaps, but somehow she didn't see Thomas abandoning his extra family, not completely.

"It's all dreadfully sad, Lucien," she sighed, "what are you going to do?"

"Now?" he turned and grinned, "now, I'm going to carry this wonderful, sexy woman I know, to bed, and ravish her senseless." He removed her knitting from her hands and swept her up into her arms, she giggled, that glorious, sexy giggle she had and wrapped her arms round his neck.

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Jean stretched and sighed, she quite liked being ravished senseless by this handsome doctor she knew. She smirked at the sight of her underwear draped over the footboard of the bed, where Lucien had probably lazily dropped it when he undressed her last night. His side of the bed was empty so she assumed he had gone to make the tea and check the children were still asleep, as he had taken to doing. She slipped out of bed and hastily picked up the discarded clothing and dropping it quickly into the laundry basket before getting back into bed and pulling the sheet up over her breasts. She was sitting, resting against the pillows when he returned with the tea tray.

"Why, Dr Blake," she teased, " how kind of you."

"The least I could do," he winked, "now, the children are playing in the bedroom so..."

"...we've overslept," she smirked, "can't understand why."

"No," he put the tray on the end of the end of the bed and reached over for her nightdress, "just in case we have little visitors."

She noticed he had his pyjama trousers on, so pulled her nightdress over her head and reached over to pour the tea. The downside of having children, if she remembered rightly, was the chance they would be interrupted if they fancied a little early morning love making. Then she thought of Ted and Julia and decided it was a small price to pay for what they had.

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"Come on, Ted," Jean called him through from the living room, "we need to go to see the school now."

Ted walked slowly through to the hall, Jean was just strapping Julia into the stroller, and Lucien was holding his coat ready.

"Aunty Jean," he pushed his hands into the pockets of his trousers, "school..."

"Yes, Ted," she could see the worry on his face, "what are you worried about?"

"Well, dad," he let Lucien help him into his coat, "he said he used to get the cane when he was at school 'n you said..."

"...you will not get the cane, Ted," Lucien put his hands on his shoulders and looked him square in the face, "as long as you behave yourself, work hard and don't get into fights. But, I'll let you into a secret, I got the cane too, for fighting."

"You did?!" Ted's eyebrows nearly hit his hairline, "really?"

"I'm sorry to say, I did," Lucien looked contrite, "my father was most displeased."

"Right," Ted thought, "so, no fighting?"

"No fighting, Ted," the doctor smiled, "but if anyone upsets you, you turn away and tell us at the end of the day. It's not weak, to turn away, in fact, it takes a great deal of strength, and we believe in you."

Ted flung his arms round Lucien, determined to try his very best to make the doctor and Aunty Jean proud of him.

Both Lucien and Jean knew that the words were somewhat hard for the boy to understand, just yet, but, deep down, with guidance he would do his very best. Fights were bound to happen but Jean had decided they would see if the school could watch over him just that little bit more than they would for another child, given his troubled background and the ribbing he was likely to get from other boys.

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The principal, a Mr Mountfield, was a genial, large gentleman with a generous smile under a magnificent handlebar moustache. He was not known to either Jean or Lucien having moved to Australia after a long career teaching in England. His office walls were decorated with examples of the children's drawings and in a cabinet was a cricket trophy.

He looked at the family before him, the wife, Mrs Blake, had told him a little of the circumstances of Ted's life and privately he had applauded them for their generosity; Dr Blake he had heard of, through the grapevine, and thought he sounded like an interesting man who he would like to get to know better. Ted looked terrified, so his first job was to put the boy at ease.

"Now, Edward, Ted, I believe they call you..." he smiled gently at him.

Ted nodded and shifted even closer to Lucien, if that were at all possible.

"... not been to school before, eh?"

He shook his head and looked down, as if he was ashamed. Lucien put his hand on his shoulder.

"Well, lad, we're a friendly bunch here," Mr Mountfield sat forward in his chair and leant on his elbows, "no fighting, and if there is we stop it. Can't remember the last time we had to use the cane, but we do expect good behaviour and hard work. Mrs Blake says she has been teaching you your letters and numbers..." he waited for the boy to confirm this.

"Yes, sir," Ted whispered.

"How has that been going?"

"Ok, I think," Ted looked at Jean for support.

"Ted has caught on rather well, I think," she smiled, "I think he would be better in a class of children of his own age, though, in spite of being a little behind them. The doctor and I are willing to help him catch up."

"Marvellous," the principal pushed himself up, "shall we go for a wander round, show you which class you would be in and some of the work they have been doing?"

Ted stuck close to Lucien as they wandered through the bright corridors of the school, the walls were lined with displays of the children's work on such topics as history and geography.

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Mr Mountfield stopped at a door labelled 'Class 2'. He knocked and waited to be admitted by the teacher.

"Ah, Miss Burns," the children in the class stood up behind their desks, "good morning, and good morning Class 2," he smiled.

The class chorused their 'good morning' and he motioned them to sit down. All the desks seated two children and were facing the front where a series of addition problems were written on the board.

"This is Ted, Miss Burns," he indicated the boy, "we are hoping to welcome him to our school very soon, and I thought your class would be just the place for him."

"We'd be delighted to have a new friend, wouldn't we, children," she was young, reminded Jean a bit of Mattie, the way she did her hair and the welcoming smile.

"Yes, Miss Burns," several children agreed, which gave Ted some hope. He looked round the class then up at the walls where several pictures and good thoughts; that he couldn't read, yet; hung.

"Perhaps we could arrange a meeting with you and Dr and Mrs Blake before he starts," Mr Mountfield suggested, "then you can set a work programme for him."

"I think that's a very good idea," she nodded, there was more to this than met the eye, she thought, usually new children just slotted into the class, joined in and learned on the go. Perhaps the children were adopted, though the two adults didn't look young enough for that, and she looked a little mature for having children of this age. Never mind, it would all become clear, soon, she thought.

"Perhaps, Miss Burns, you would like to call one evening after school, we could talk then?" Jean suggested, it would be so much easier to explain over tea and biscuits, while the children played.

"Now, that sounds like a lovely idea," she smiled, already warming to the couple.

"I'll leave the number with Mr Mountfield," Jean continued, "call anytime."

"Lovely," Mr Mountfield smiled, "now, Ted, let's have a look at the playground and sports field, eh?"

Outside was a good sized playground with remnants of chalk markings for hopscotch around, and a field where cricket was played, races and games lessons were held.

"I noticed a cricket trophy in your office," Lucien remarked, "do you challenge other schools?"

"We do, and we won our last 'test match'," he grinned, "just between the smaller schools, you understand, but it's good for the children to take part in competitions, don't you think?"

"I do, I boxed for my school," Lucien nodded.

"Any good?"

"Not bad," he admitted, "not always a winner though, got some shiners in the process."

"Well, it's not something on our list of sports," Mr Mountfield smiled, Jean heaved a sigh of relief, "but we are hoping to put together a soccer team."

Up to now Ted had been silent, but the thought of being able to play a sport interested him,

"Mr Mountfield, sir," he sucked in a breath, "can I play cricket and soccer?"

"Everybody gets the chance to play, in Games Lessons, Ted, and, if we think you've got something to add to the team, you can always try out," Mr Mountfield smile down at him, "not everybody gets to play but we like to give everyone the chance."

For the first time since setting foot in the school, Ted smiled.

"Still got to do the reading and writing, son," Lucien tugged his hand, "and the numbers, you might have to keep score."

Ted looked up at him, "ok, Uncle Lucien, deal," he shook the hand he held.

Lucien grinned.

Back in his office, Mr Mountfield formally put Ted's name down to start the school, saying that if everything worked out, perhaps they'd be welcoming his sister in a few years time.

"Now, we only have a week until there's a break, so may I suggest Ted starts at the beginning of the next term," he linked his hands on his desk, "I'll have Miss Burns contact you and make an appointment. She'll tell you where Ted should be up to and what you can do to help him get near, but, when he does join we'll find someone to support him until he's caught up."

"That sounds lovely," Jean cradled Julia in her arms, she had become bored and dozed off, "we look forward to hearing from Miss Burns soon. Thank you for being so accommodating with Ted, I'm sure he'll settle in, in due course."

"We look forward to him joining us," Mr Mountfield stood up and extended his hand to Lucien and Ted, then Jean, once she had settled Julia in the stroller.

He watched them leave, Ted's head notably higher than when he had arrived, and smiled. He liked them, they seemed like good people, and to take in two children for fostering was very generous.

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So, how will Ted take to school and what news will Agnes have to share?


	5. Chapter 5

Jean was pleased Miss Burns took her up on the invitation to stop by for tea and to discuss young Ted. She found her pleasant and intelligent. Jean told her all about Ted and how he and his sister had come to be with them. How he was quiet but curious, gentle with his sister and, so far, no trouble. She was worried that his parentage, his being a foster child might mean some teasing, in school.

"I'll look after him, Mrs Blake," Miss Burns smiled, "it's not easy, joining school in the middle of year at the best of times, and with no experience of the education system, well, I would expect him to be a little shy."

"That's part of the worrying thing," Jean admitted, "he should have started school last year, he has such a lot to catch up on. I don't want him to be upset he can't do things the others in his class can do."

"You said you and your husband were willing to support him, to help him catch up?"

"Yes, of course," Jean nodded, "and so far I've spent half an hour a day with him, on his letters and numbers and he's doing well, trying hard, but I am more than aware that is not enough."

"Right," Miss Burns reached down onto her bag, "here are some exercises for him to do. They look like games, and they are, but he will also learn with them, also, when you go shopping ask him to help you, perhaps with adding up a couple of prices, just pennies, you understand, using his fingers."

"Thank you, that's very helpful," Jean smiled at the puzzles and exercise book she had passed over, "we'll certainly give them a go."

"Good, and we have someone to give him a bit of help in class, a mother who used to teach and comes in to hear children read. She's going to point him in the right direction."

"That sounds lovely," Jean smiled.

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April the tenth was fast approaching, Ted would just have started school when his birthday came round. Jean decided they would celebrate it a little more quietly than, possibly, next year, he wouldn't have had time to make many friends and it seemed that he didn't realise the significance of such a day. He certainly didn't go around requesting gifts, or anything special, in fact, unlike most boys of his age, he seemed to be ignoring it, totally. He did have one friend, a boy who came, twice weekly, while his mother was having checks on a skin complaint. George had noticed Ted in the hall one day and they had shyly said "hello" to each other. They would never have met if Lucien hadn't suggested she come at the end of the day. He and Jean had to clean the instruments after each of her visits and to have her last was easier, and he could take his time.

"Aunty Jean?" Ted asked one day as she opened the door to some patients, George and his mother being two of them, "could he come and play with me, in the living room, please?"

"Er, yes," Jean was quite surprised at this, "if his mother doesn't mind."

On inquiring of George's mother she said perhaps it would be nicer for George, rather than sitting in the surgery listening to Dr Blake and watching him change her dressings, to play with Ted. So the boys would race the toy cars along the floor, and colour in Ted's books and build towers with the bricks, which even George was happy to let Julia knock down, if she was awake.

Jean wondered if George would like to have tea with the children, on Ted's birthday. It was a day he would be there and she could feed the three children in the kitchen while she and Mrs Porter had a cuppa.

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Ted's birthday dawned. He knew George was to stay for tea but not that it was a special day so he was rather surprised when on the breakfast table were three cards and three parcels with his name on.

"Oh," he stood and stared, "why?"

"It's your birthday, Ted," Jean said softly, "these are gifts, for you."

He turned the cards over in his hand slowly, before opening them; one was from Jean and Lucien, one from Matthew and Dr Harvey; they hadn't got as far as Aunty Alice, yet; and one from Julia. Jean had held a crayon in the baby's hand and 'helped' her write her name.

Matthew and Alice had bought him a book of 'Stories for Boys', beautifully illustrated and perfect to be read by a little boy like Ted, from Julia there was a selection of puzzle books, he never seemed to tire of them, and from his foster parents a small train set that he could add to as he wanted. He was stuck for words and a little tearful at the generosity. Again, he resolved, to himself, that he would do his best to be a good boy for them.

Jean dropped him off at school and watched him happily wave to her as Mrs Brown took his hand and they headed in to do some reading, before morning assembly.

So far, and she did admit it was early days, he seemed to be settling in alright. He'd been disappointed to find George did not attend the same school but they still managed to play together when his mother came for her appointments.

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Ted wasn't expecting anything else for his birthday. The class had sung to him, which shocked him, but nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He'd worked hard at his maths and English, been praised for the effort he put in and for succeeding in most of those efforts. He joined in chanting the two times tables and had one of his drawings put on the wall, which he was most proud of. They'd had a games lesson and he had proved to be rather swift on the football pitch and handy with his feet. Miss Burns made a note to let Mr Mountfield know the little boys dream of trying out for the infant team might be within reach.

"I think it would do him good, Sir," she closed the office door, "it would give him more confidence, he's very shy and always surprised when he is praised."

"Right, well, trials will be next week, after school," Mr Mountfield smiled, "ask his foster mother if he can stay behind for an hour, and we'll see. How's he doing in class?"

"Quite well, slowly catching up, with luck, by the end of the year he should be almost at the same level as most of his classmates," she passed his books across.

"Marvellous," he beamed, "let's hope he keeps up his enthusiasm. He has a good home, now. I've seen Mrs Blake pick him up at the end of the day and is always greeted with a hug and a smile."

"That makes all the difference, doesn't it?"

"It certainly does."

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George arrived with his mother clutching a small parcel, he almost shoved it at Ted with a mumbled "Happy birthday, mate."

Ted looked up at Jean, who nodded, and took it, "thank you," he whispered as they headed to the living room to play with the cars as usual. He also wanted to show his friend his train set, which Lucien had set up; and played with; before surgery. Jean had chided him for being childish but had laughed too.

George had given him another car to add to his collection and this went on the flat carriage of the train and was taken round the track, falling off when it went round a bend to fast, much to the delight of the boys, who hooted with laughter each time. Jean, and Mrs Porter after she had seen Lucien, smiled to see and hear them.

"George doesn't have many friends at school," Mrs Porter told her, sipping a cup of tea, "he's a bit too bookish. Not that that's a bad thing, but he's not very good at games, a bit uncoordinated, his teachers say."

"We all have our place in life," Jean smiled, "and we do need the bookish as well as the sporty."

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Jean set out a tea of sandwiches, biscuits, jelly and fruit, and a jug of orange squash. She sat Julia in her high chair and they let the children help themselves, smiling as they offered thing to each other and chatted over their tea.

The boys laughed as Julia squashed food in her hands then crammed it into her mouth, though Jean did help her with the jelly, thinking eating it with her hands would make more mess than she fancied clearing up.

When they had finished what was on the table she asked Mrs Porter to take the things to the sink while she popped into the sun room. She returned very quickly with a chocolate cake, Ted's name iced in blue icing and six candles burning on it. His eyes widened with wonder, his mouth dropped open, he'd never seen such a thing.

"Now, Ted," she put the cake in front of him, "you need to blow out the candles and make a wish..."

"...but keep it a secret," Lucien had listened and knew he had to be there for this auspicious occasion, "that's how wishes work. You mustn't tell anyone." He rested his hands on the boys shoulders as he took a deep breath and blew.

All the candles went out and a huge cheer went up,

"Did I miss something?" Matthew limped in.

"Ted just blew out his candles," Jean looked up.

"Well done, lad," Matthew grinned and ruffled his hair. "Make a wish?"

"Yes, Uncle Matthew, but Uncle Lucien says I have to keep it a secret, or it won't work," Ted nodded, eyes still as big as saucers.

"That's what they say," Matthew agreed.

"Anybody want a piece?" Jean stood poised with a knife, which always made Lucien nervous, from the very first time he had met her.

"I'm full, Mrs Blake," George sighed, regretfully.

"Then I shall wrap a piece up for you to take home, dear," Jean smiled.

"Think I'll save mine until after dinner, Jean," Lucien started to help Julia, "wouldn't want to spoil what smells rather good."

"I second that," Matthew sat down.

"Would you like to take a piece for Dr Harvey, Uncle Matthew," Ted asked shyly. He still didn't know quite what to make of the pathologist, but he knew she was a friend to his foster parents, so she could be trusted.

Jean turned to hide her smile, Ted was an observant sort, she thought. Matthew was unlikely to get away with anything concerning Alice under his gaze.

"Er..." Matthew reddened, "that's kind of you, Ted, I think she'd like that."

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Cake eaten, George and his mother departed, thanking them for a lovely tea.

"Thank you for the new car, George," Ted was prompted by Jean, "and thank you for coming to tea."

"Alright, mate," George grinned, "see ya!"

They waved them off then Jean suggested she put both children in the bath before Julia went to bed. Ted could stay up and Uncle Lucien would read to him out of the book Matthew and Dr Harvey had bought him.

"Before that, Aunty Jean," Ted went to his school bag and reached in. He stood in front of Jean and handed her an envelope addressed in his rather untidy handwriting; well he'd only been learning a few weeks; to her and Uncle Lucien, then ran off to find Uncle Matthew.

Jean opened the letter and tears filled her eyes as she read his thank you note, for his present and for making his day 'speshul'. He'd drawn a picture of the train on it and coloured it bright red.

Matthew's note was addressed to him and Dr Harvey and thanked them for the book, saying it was very kind of them. He also promised to look after it.

Matthew smiled at him and said he was most welcome, he would show the note to Dr Harvey when he took her the cake.

"Ok," Ted ran off to the bathroom for his bath. Mrs Brown had suggested he write thank you letters when he told her of all that had happened that morning and asked how he should pass on his thanks.

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Matthew headed out to see Alice after dinner, his excuse was the cake and the letter. She didn't expect him and was quite surprised to see him on the doorstep with a small parcel resting on his hand.

"Oh, Matthew," she stepped aside to let him enter, "I didn't think I would see you, tonight."

"No, well we didn't plan anything, but aren't I allowed to be spontaneous?" he winked.

"Yes, of course you are, but..."

"Ok, an ulterior motive," he held out his hand, "Ted sent a piece of his birthday cake and..." he held up the note.

"It isn't Jean's chocolate cake, is it?" dare she hope?

"Afraid so," he sighed.

"Oh dear, I suppose I'd better try it then," she smirked, she was a bit fond of Jean's baking, as she was hopeless in that department.

"There's a piece for me too, I was supposed to eat it after dinner, but..."

"You didn't want to me to eat alone," she raised her eyebrows, "or pinch some of mine."

"Something like that."

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They sat on the couch eating the cake, washing it down with a whisky each. Matthew handed her the note, she looked at the uneven writing then remembered Ted was only six and had only just started to learn to write, so, on that basis, she decided he'd done rather well. She smiled at the note inside,

"Jean and Lucien got one, too," he told her, "I think he did them at school, with the woman who's helping him get on the right track."

"I think it's rather sweet, my mother had to hold us down to write our thank you notes," Alice admitted, "we thought that if we'd said 'thank you' that should do it, but she was right, it is nice to receive a written 'thank you', I see that, now."

"Yeah, me and Vera as well," Matthew took the plates and put them on the coffee table, "it's only when you start to receive them you see the need."

"True..." but that was all she managed to say...

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Matthew was surprised to see Agnes Clasby's car on the drive when he returned from Alice's . As far as he knew Lucien didn't do evening surgeries so maybe it was a social call. As he opened the door he could hear them talking, in rather hushed tones. He decided to make his presence know in case they didn't want anybody else to know whatever it was.

"Are you sure, Agnes?" Lucien was asking, "I mean surely he would have made sure she was looked after."

Matthew coughed, "Er, shall I go out again?"

Jean looked at Lucien, his hair was sticking up where he had run his hands through it.

"No, old friend," Lucien smiled, wanly, "it won't be a secret for long, not knowing Ballarat."

He went to sit down in the chair, "what?"

Lucien nodded to Jean to start.

"It would appear that Ted is really Lucien's half nephew." She reached and squeezed her husband's hand. "And Julia his half niece."

"Bloody hell," Matthew whistled, "how?"

Agnes took over.

"I noticed the similarity in looks between Lucien and Ted, and I have known the family a long time," she sat back and sipped her sherry, "around nineteen thirty two, thirty three, Thomas was rather friendly with a childless couple. He owned a bookshop, she ran his house. They were fairly well off, from an inheritance. Thomas spent quite a lot of time with them, over for dinner and such like, she had made him her 'project', seeing him as a lonely soul, not even a live-in housekeeper for company, just a woman who came in daily to clean and do the laundry. Inevitably they grew close, closer than they should have."

"An affair?" Matthew had known Lucien almost his whole life, and knew Thomas well, particularly in later years as the police surgeon.

"Yes, and it would have remained a secret if..."

"...she hadn't become pregnant." Lucien took over, "of course it was obvious. She had been married some years without bearing children, not conceiving once. She rowed with her husband, no surprises there, and left. She left dad a note, saying she was leaving Ballarat, it was for the best, but, according to Agnes, he didn't know why. He didn't know she carried his child."

"Oh," Matthew didn't quite know what to say.

"Thomas confided in me, about the affair, said I was the soul of discretion and he had no one else to tell." Agnes continued, "of course gossip ran round the town like measles, that she bore another man's child, but nobody suspected Thomas."

"How did you find out?" Matthew asked Agnes, most of the people from that era were dead and buried.

"It would appear that Nell knew everything. The woman, who I am not going to name, had written to her and told her. She didn't want Thomas to think ill of her, but nor did she want him to try and find her. Nell was one of the people who was usually Thomas' guest for any dinners, most thought he would marry her. She didn't love Thomas, except like a brother." Agnes held out her glass to be refilled, "Nell never told Thomas the real story she left but she did keep in touch with the woman, even when she fell to the oldest profession. She told Nell, in a letter," Agnes held up an envelope, sepia with age, "that she had a little girl, Patricia, Lucien's half sister. Pat followed her mother into the same profession but left when she fell pregnant, by a customer, and had Ted. Julia's father met her in another brothel, took her away from it and the rest you know." Agnes sipped her sherry.

"So Ted's mother still has no idea she is a Blake," Matthew reached over and took Lucien's whisky out of his hand and downed it in one. "Seems to have some of the traits, bloody stubborn, rash...What are you going to do?"

"Ted must not know, not until he's old enough to understand," Lucien stood up and refilled his glass and poured one for Matthew. Jean was still sipping the first one he had poured her. Matthew noted she was drinking whisky not sherry. "However, I do want Pat to know where she comes from, see if I can help her. The fact that her mother never told my father, and neither did Nell, explains why he didn't leave her anything in his will, which I know he would have. In fact, had he known he would have supported them, it was his way."

"You better have this letter, Lucien," Agnes leant forward and handed him the envelope, "it's her letter to Nell about Pat's birth, again insisting she not tell Thomas."

"Thank you, Agnes," Lucien smiled, taking the letter, "I'm glad you took the time and trouble to check it out. I suppose I never thought of it, because I never knew of dad's affair, and little boys have their hair cut just like that."

"He does look rather like you, as a little boy, Lucien," Agnes stood up, "I remember you well." She smiled and went to him. "Don't be ashamed of your father, he was lonely and we both know that he was an honourable man, who would have looked after them."

"It does take two Agnes," he lifted her hand and kissed it, "I suppose if she already had a child it wouldn't have been remarked upon, her husband must have been devastated by the affair and the fact that she had a child with her lover and not him. Did he know who the father was?"

"That we don't know, I'm afraid," Agnes shook her head, "but they're all long gone now, so no need to dig up anymore of the past than we already have."

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So, how will Pat take the news? What will her husband think or do? Will she tell him? So many questions.


	6. Chapter 6

Jean and Lucien talked long into the night about what they could do for Pat, if she would let them, and when and what they should tell Ted.

"So many things have changed in his life, and so quickly," Jean nestled against him in bed, "it might be rather a lot for him to take in."

"I want to see Pat, to tell her who she is," Lucien put his arm round her, "she may be very angry, hurt. I think I would be, if it were me, to know my mother denied me part of who I am, all out of pride. Because that's what it was, Jean, pride."

"Mm," she agreed, wondering what she would have done, in that position. "I wonder what your father would have done, had he known."

"Hopefully seen that she was settled, had a home, wherever she felt she could be content," he stared ahead, "at least content."

"Pat may be very angry, at you, at him," Jean felt she should point out, "she may want nothing to do with you, but she is an adult, Ted is a child, and he is the one I am most concerned about, and you then her."

Lucien turned to her, "in that order?"

"You and Ted together," she tipped her head to kiss his cheek, "I don't know Pat, but she hasn't inquired about her children, according to Bryan. Remember, he said she just shrugged her shoulders when he went to tell them the children were being looked after by us. It was him, the one who actually didn't want the children, who assaulted Bryan, not her."

"True, I suppose until I have spoken to Pat we won't know." He pulled her down under the bedclothes and they held each other until sleep claimed them.

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Jean took Ted to school, dropping Lucien off at the station to see Ramsay, who was in the cells, again, for drunken behaviour. Hobart had been sent in answer to a call from a neighbour and he had hauled the man in.

"What about his wife?" Lucien asked, "did he hit her this time?"

"Nah," Hobart passed him the report, "she was hiding in another room, wouldn't come out."

Lucien took note of the address before heading to the cells to see if Ramsay needed medical attention.

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The man sat slumped on the bed. Lucien took a few seconds to observe him. He had a black eye, Hobart? His nose had been bleeding and his knuckles bore the signs of multiple fights, breaks that hadn't been set properly, or at all. His clothes were torn, darned in parts, ill fitting and dirty. A poor excuse of a man.

He examined the bruises and cuts, cleaned up the bloody nose and pronounced him as fit as he could be, considering the amount of alcohol he had consumed.

"You know your behaviour is the reason the children have been taken off you, don't you?" Lucien decided to try and find his thinking on Ted and Julia.

He shrugged, "bloody pain, both of 'em," he snarled, "boy's not mine anyway."

"You took Pat on..."

"...didn't know about the kid," he hissed, "she pulled a fast one on me. Glad they're out of the way."

Lucien thought he'd better not push it, he didn't want them to go back to that kind of life, and knowing what he now knew, he had more claim; if that was the right word; on Ted, than Ramsay did.

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Jean collected Lucien after she had done some shopping. He was to take her home then drive over to try and see Pat. He wasn't sure how he was going to introduce himself, perhaps as the caring country doctor, just checking to see if she had been hurt in yesterday's fracas, on advice from the police.

The door was opened slowly just enough for a face to peer round.

"Good morning, Mrs Ramsay?" Lucien raised his hat, "Dr Lucien Blake, Sergeant Hobart has suggested I call, he was concerned as he didn't see you yesterday when..."

She opened the door and stood aside to let him in.

The hall was dark, dingy and smelt vaguely of boiled cabbage and possibly a blocked drain. She led him into the back parlour lit by a single, naked bulb. He blinked in the harsh light and looked around. There were no signs any children had ever lived there; the old couch looked less than comfortable and stained with goodness knew what, another chair, in front of a pitiful fire, was in even worse condition, with the stuffing pushing through the worn fabric.

Lucien looked at his half sister. His first thought, strangely, was how distressed his father would have been, had he known. Deep down he was glad he didn't know. She had a fading black eye and healing cut to her lip.

"That must have been quite a shiner," he pointed to the eye.

She shrugged her thin shoulders.

"Let me take a look at that lip," Lucien kept his voice soft and soothing as he opened his bag and took out some gauze and disinfectant. She winced as he gently cleaned it and he apologised, saying he didn't want it to get infected.

She didn't offer him a seat, thankfully, or tea, for which he was also rather grateful, then worried he was being unkind.

"Do you have any family, here?" he asked.

"Dunno, don't care," she mumbled, "ma left before I was born."

"What about your father?"

"God knows, I sure as hell don't. Don't want to neither," she grunted, "ma said he was a good man, but what good man lets you go when you're having his baby?"

"What if he didn't know?" Lucien asked gently, "what if she ran away? It wouldn't be the first time."

"Look, doctor whoever you are, I don't bloody care, ok?" she snapped, "ma left, end of story. I grew up in shit, my whole life is shit, I'll die in shit! Now piss off, and leave me alone!"

"I can't just do that, Mrs Ramsay..." he stood firm, quiet but firm.

"It's not Mrs Ramsay, not Mrs anything!" she screamed.

"Pat, then, that's your name, isn't it?" he took a deep breath, "I can't just go, because I know who your father was and who your family is."

"So bloody what, do you think that makes any difference, you interfering smart arse?!" she stormed.

"It does to me," he persisted, "Pat, your father was my father, you are my half sister." There he'd said it, "I want to help you, see you settled in somewhere better than this, it's what dad would have wanted, if he'd known."

"Well it's too bloody late! So you can take your 'help' and shove it where the sun don't shine!" She pushed him, hard towards the door, "get lost, bugger off..." there followed more expletives Lucien had really only heard in the army and certainly not from a woman. She finished the tirade by throwing his bag at him. He caught the bag and stood there open mouthed.

"Pat!" he yelled, but he was answered by the door slamming and the sound of things being thrown. 'She must take after her mother,' he thought, 'I have to be roaring drunk to act like that.' The door opened again and she flung his hat at him. He picked it up and dusted it off.

A neighbour poked her head out of the door and beckoned him over,

"Are you alright, Sir," she whispered, as if Pat could hear her over the noise of breaking pots.

"Yes, thank you. I was just checking she was not hurt after he was arrested."

"Oh she's as bad as him," the neighbour huffed, "don't think she drinks though, just got a temper. Are the kids ok, only we haven't seen them for a while?"

"Yes, they're being fostered," Lucien felt he could at least let her know that.

"Good, little lad deserves a chance. Sweet kid, always looking out for his sister, used to hide in the shed when he came home and started."

"Right, I'll pass that on to the relevant authorities." Lucien smiled and turned to leave.

"Not that Miss Grey," she huffed again, "she's useless, wouldn't lower herself to bother with two underfed waifs like them. Sent a young lad, he got a right thumping."

"Mr Cross is ok, now," Lucien got ready to put his hat back on, "the children won't be coming back."

"Good," she turned and went back inside.

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Lucien drove thoughtfully home, wondering if he should try again with Pat. In a way he was glad she hadn't seemed to want his help, though, by heaven, she needed it, but he was angry with her for the way she refused. He could only blame her mother, for not coming clean to his father, and her upbringing, which must have been tough in the extreme. He would speak to Jean after the children were in bed. This was not for Ted's ears, it would be even harder to tell him he was really Lucien's family.

"Made a bit of a mess, dad, didn't you," he spoke to the air, "but she was the author of her own destruction."

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He arrived home, via the morgue, in plenty of time for dinner. He liked getting home, or finishing surgery, in time to help Ted with any schoolwork he may have, then play with the train set, but today, as he walked down the hall he could hear him and Jean,

"Come on, Julia," Ted urged his sister on, "you can do it." Then, "Yay! you did it."

"Such a clever girl, isn't she, Ted?" Jean's voice, and as he rounded the corner Ted was kneeling on the floor opposite the couch where Jean sat, leaning forward. Julia was standing facing Jean, with Ted holding her arms,

'Now back to Aunty Jean," Ted gave her a tiny push and the little girl wobbled over to Jean who scooped her up in her arms and held her high.

"There'll be trouble," he smiled, "now she's walking. Hello all."

"Hi, Uncle Lucien, isn't it great?" Ted beamed.

"Indeed it is, son," he went over and kissed Jean and Julia and accepted and returned Ted's hug. "Good day at school?"

"Yeah, I'm going to stay tomorrow, to see if I can get on the footy team," his eyes lit up with expectation.

"Well, good luck," Lucien ruffled his hair, "but, if you don't get on this time, there'll be other things to try, cricket, for instance. So don't be too disappointed, whatever happens we'll still be proud of you, for trying."

Jean smiled, he was really more than many fathers were to a small boy. He could accept if Ted didn't make the team, if he made mistakes. So many would blame the child. She supposed it was because he'd made mistakes in his life but still found someone to love him, and she did, for all the things he was to her and to the children. He was trying so hard not to make the same mistakes his father had made with him and, so far he was succeeding. Her heart was full to overflowing with love for this flawed man she had chosen to spend the rest of her days with.

"Well," she stood up, Julia in her arms, "I must get on with dinner, I'll leave you to help Ted with his maths." She passed the baby to him, kissed him lightly on the lips and headed to the kitchen.

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Jean put the children to bed while Lucien and Matthew washed up. Lucien said he would talk to them both about Pat later. They had both noticed he didn't seem particularly happy about his day and both assumed it was something to do with his half sister. When she had settled Ted, Julia having fallen asleep quickly, as usual, she joined the men in the living room where Lucien had poured the drinks.

There was a funny sort of silence, not awkward but, there was anticipation in the air, an odd feeling.

"I suppose you'd like to know what happened when I went to see Pat?" Lucien stared into his whisky and swirled the amber fluid thoughtfully round.

"I don't suppose it was a happy reunion," Jean took his hand, "you didn't look like you'd found a long lost sister when you came in."

"No, she wasn't exactly pleased to see me, well, she was ok when I was just attending to her wounds, but when I asked about family she started to yell at me. Told me she didn't want my help, didn't care who her father was. Even when I told her we had the same father, that he didn't know about her, she said she didn't want my help, that I could shove it where the sun doesn't shine. She threw me out using language I haven't heard since the army and certainly not from a woman." He downed his whisky in one, but didn't immediately reach for another. "I don't know what to do, whether to try again or to forget about her, though I'm not sure I can."

"Oh Lucien," Jean sighed, "are you sure it wasn't just the shock, at finding she had family?"

"No, it was pure hatred. She also told me she isn't married to Ramsay, so, in the event of anything happening to her..."

"...you are Ted and Julia's only living relative. He wants nothing to do with Julia so..." Jean tried to put her thoughts into word, that the children would have to stay with them, nobody could take them away, though she was sure Miss Grey would have a damn good try.

"...I hope so." Lucien read her mind. "but first something needs to be done for Pat, one way or another. According to her neighbour they are as bad as each other. She did say, however, that Ted always protected Julia, they hid in the shed when he got home drunk and threatening."

"He obviously couldn't rely on his mother," Matthew muttered.

"No, apparently not." Lucien stood up and poured himself another whisky. "What's happening with him? This is his, what, third offence in as many weeks?"

"Yeah," Matthew nodded, "he's up on charges of assault on Bryan Cross, and was supposed to behave himself until court, but now he'll have to stay in our cells until then."

"Might it help if I go to see Pat?" Jean asked, "I knew your father," she turned to her husband, "maybe I can explain."

"After the way she treated me, I wouldn't like you to go anywhere near her," Lucien frowned, "if you came home with bruises how would you explain it to Ted? How could you tell him his mother hit you?"

"I suppose I couldn't, not without hurting him," she realised it wasn't a good idea, no matter how much she wanted to help, being assaulted by Ted's mother would upset the boy. If he protected his sister she had no idea what he would do. "I'm sorry, Lucien, I wish I knew what to do, to help you both."

"Thank you, Jean," he leaned over and kissed her lightly, "perhaps I'll leave it a couple of days, then go and see her again. Perhaps she'll have thought it over by then."

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But Pat hadn't thought it over. Her feelings hadn't changed towards the doctor and this time she wouldn't even let him in the house. Jean had given him a box of fruit and vegetables for her, a kind of peace offering, she said, but that only made her more work as she had to clean the tomatoes that had splattered on his jacket. The rest of the produce, he told her, split as it hit the steps and path. It would seem Pat was quite happy to wallow in her own self pity and after a third try even Lucien had to admit defeat. He did, however, ask the neighbour to let him know if anything changed, just saying that as her husband was not around...

"You're too good, Dr Blake," the neighbour smiled, "if there were more like you in the world we'd all be in a better place."

He smiled and left with a heavy heart.

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Ted's bid for the soccer team was successful, just. He was the last to be picked and had just about resigned himself to not making it when his name was called.

"But you've already got eleven, Sir," he pointed out.

"Sometimes a player needs a rest, Ted, we always need a substitute," the coach smiled, "so you and..." he looked round for the other child he had spotted, "...Fraser Wilson, will be the subs."

Ted was so excited he couldn't help running over to Jean, who had stayed to watch.

"Mum! Mum!" he yelled, "mum! I did it!"

Jean bit her lip as other parents looked at her, knowing she was his foster mother, and he usually called her 'Aunty Jean'. She crouched down to catch him in her open arms.

"Well done, Ted," she held him tight, she certainly wasn't going to correct him.

"I'm a sub, mum, if somebody needs a rest, so is Fraser," he told her breathlessly.

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Lucien was equally proud of Ted, who had recovered himself to revert to the usual titles of Uncle and Aunty. He did, however, explain that he may not play much in some matches, but watching how other players played was also very useful.

Matthew congratulated him too, and said they would be sure to go to the first match they played.

"Will Dr Harvey watch too?" Ted asked, innocently.

"I don't know, Ted, I'll ask her when I see her, shall I?" Matthew had finally stopped blushing when Ted included Alice in any family activities, "if you want her to come and watch, that is."

"Ok," he nodded and went back to eating his dinner. One day, he decided, he was going to be very brave and call her Aunty Alice, after all 'Alice' was her name, that was what Uncle Matthew called her.

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"What!" Alice shrieked when Matthew told her later that evening, "oh lord, really?"

He smirked, he had a feeling that would be her reaction. "You don't have to," he put his arm round her, "I think he'd rather like it, he seems to feel you are part of the family, and he did send you some of his birthday cake."

"Hm," she grimaced, standing watching a bunch of small boys run around after a ball was not her idea of time well spent.

"I could make it up to you, I'm sure," he smiled, a wicked smile.

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The coach sent a letter home to all parents, welcoming their son to the soccer team and advising that they would practice on Saturday mornings at nine o'clock. The boys would need their gym shorts and tops and running shoes, or soccer boots; the soccer boots were not necessary, though if possible they would be useful.

Jean read the letter and thought about the boots. His gym shoes would get very muddy but, if other boys couldn't afford proper soccer boots she didn't want him to stand out in that way. She talked it over with Lucien and they decided they would wait to see how he got on and how many of the other boys had proper footwear.

For the first practice Lucien said he would take him, Alice wouldn't mind covering for him, in fact, when he asked her she was rather eager. He smiled, obviously Matthew was going to be hard pressed to get her to any of the matches.

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Lucien helped Ted tie his laces then sent him onto the pitch to meet with the other boys and the coach. He watched as they were taken through exercises, skills warm ups and then played a little five aside game, where everyone had a go.

"Which one's yours?" a man spoke next to him.

"The little fella there," Lucien pointed to Ted streaking up the edge of the pitch, "yours?"

"Goalie," he pointed to a tall, dark haired lad poised ready to defend his team's honour.

"Good idea this," Lucien noted amiably, "getting youngsters to play team games at an early age."

"Yeah, oh bugger," he grunted as Ted sent the ball into the back of the net between his boys legs.

Lucien kept quiet, but inside he was dancing a little happy dance for Ted.

"Quick, your lad," the man mused.

"He is, isn't he," Lucien grinned, "better luck next time."

At the end of the match, which saw both teams score one goal each, Ted came charging over to Lucien a broad grin over his face.

"Did you see, dad," he gasped, "did you see me?"

"I did son, I did," Lucien helped him into his jumper and changed his muddy gym shoes for his school shoes, "you did very well."

The rest of the parents pulled jumpers on their children, ruffled their hair and told them how well they did. The coach called everyone to him, parents as well as boys.

"It was such a treat to see everyone turn out this morning. The boys all played well, and it was so good of you all to support them. I look forward to many more Saturdays like this and eventually we will challenge one of the local schools to a friendly." He beamed at everyone, "now lads, off you go, home for a warm bath and a drink."

The boy who Ted had got the ball past him came up and grinned.

"Bonzer goal that, mate," he playfully punched his shoulder, "hope you're on the team when we go up against another school."

Ted just grinned back and headed off for a bath.

"Will Aunty Jean be cross I'm so muddy?" he asked Lucien as he climbed into the car.

"No, she expects it," Lucien reassured him, "just be careful where you stand."

"Ok."

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"Goodness, Ted!" Jean gasped when she saw him, "did you leave any mud on the pitch, or have you brought it all home with you?"

Ted laughed, "I scored a goal, Aunty Jean," he stood while Lucien undid his laces and held up the dirty gym shoes, "didn't I?"

"You did, son," Lucien stood and ruffled his hair, "a bonzer goal."

Jean rolled her eyes.

"I'll run him a bath, shall I?" he looked at Jean.

"Yes, and bring his clothes through, I'll wash them before the mud dries."

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It took Ted most of the rest of the day to calm down after his success in his first game, not even Lucien telling him he wouldn't always be so lucky, could dampen his spirits.

He told Matthew all about it when he came home at dinner time and he was congratulated again.

"I was really muddy when I came home," he grinned, "and Aunty Jean doesn't know how my shoes'll come clean." He continued to eat his dinner and answered questions about his team mates, and said the goal keeper didn't seem to mind not stopping his goal.

"I don't think another team's goalie will be quite so generous about it," Lucien pointed out.

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So, will they ever get Pat to reconcile herself to being a Blake? What will Miss Grey do when she finds out the family connection?


	7. Chapter 7

"Aunty Jean?" Ted slid down under the sheet, "if it's Julia's birthday soon, does she have a special tea?"

"Why, yes, of course she does," Jean smoothed the bedcovers, she knew he would never stop looking out for his little sister, "though she doesn't have any friends to invite."

"Hm," Ted thought for a moment, "what about George? He's her friend as well as mine."

"Well, I suppose so, though he only comes once a week now," she tipped her head in thought, "I could ask his mother to ask him."

"Ok," he snuggled down and closed his eyes. Jean knew he would be asleep in minutes. She leant over and kissed his forehead then left, with one last look as she closed the bedroom door just enough to allow a small shaft of light in.

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"Settled?" Lucien looked up from his paper.

"Yes, he's asking about a birthday tea for Julia," she picked up her knitting and sat down.

"He'll always protect her," he folded the paper and took his whisky over to sit by her, "until she tells him not to."

"And even then, he'll look out for her," she smiled, "it's rather sweet, but heaven help her boyfriends." She laughed, softly.

"So what have you decided?"

"I'll ring Mrs Porter tomorrow and ask her if George would like to come to tea for Julia's birthday," she smiled and put her head on his shoulder.

"It seems to be working, doesn't it?" he mused, stroking her head, "having Ted and Julia."

She didn't reply, just wriggled closer to him and smiled to herself.

They sat in companionable silence, punctuated by the clicking of her knitting needles and the crackling of the fire, until Lucien decided to put some music on. He set the record on the turntable and turned to her. She was continuing to knit, and he could see it was a little cardigan for Julia, too small for Amelia. She looked up and smiled, put the knitting down and stood up, taking a step and touching his outstretched hand.

You couldn't call it dancing, really. They just swayed to the music, Lucien held her close and bent to nibble her ear and along her jawline. She pushed her hips against him and felt his growing desire. Not for the first time did she think what a good idea it had been to turn the studio into a bed sitting room for them, for the times they wanted to be alone, or were alone in the house.

The nibbles became little kisses, the kisses became deeper, more passionate as he dragged his finger tip down her spine, making her shiver. They 'danced' to the bed where he lay her down and dreamily undressed her, kissing each part he exposed. She was powerless to do anything other than lie there, moaning her need for him. She eventually mustered up the strength to start to undo his shirt buttons and push the garment off him, while he unzipped his trousers and pushed them and his shorts to the floor.

They made love slowly, tenderly, until she gasped and he spilled into her as she tightened round him, holding him with her heels.

"I love you," she hummed, "my dearest Lucien."

They shuffled under the bed clothes and held each other until sleep claimed them, Jean smiling in her slumber.

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Ted off to school; Lucien would drop him off on the way to the station; Jean set Julia to play on the bedroom floor while she vacuumed and dusted. She had a few errands to run in town later but was going to do those when she picked Ted up from school. In between times there was paperwork for the surgery to do, then she would take the baby into the garden while she did some dead heading and pruning. Julia was still very wobbly on her feet but was eager to follow her foster mother around the house, however she could. Jean always had to look behind her before she moved and wondered if it might be a good idea to put a gate on the bedroom door, for when surgery was on at least.

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She sat Julia in the high chair and gave her a cup of milk while she had some tea and went through the post. The usual bills and payments and one from Christopher. She had written to him when they had taken the children in and they were settled but hadn't heard back. She supposed it took time to get to them, and for him to get a reply back, not that he was that good at letter writing. As she read down his news, how they were settled and Amelia was loving playing with other children on the base. There was no mention of Ted and Julia so perhaps when he wrote he hadn't received her letter, but he said they were coming home, he had some leave and he wondered if they could stay with them.

"Of course, if it's not possible could you book us into the Soldier's Hill, Amelia's dying to see you."

She sat back and thought. It would mean she had a houseful, which she loved, but would Ted and Julia be alright with more strangers? Christopher and Ruby could have Charlie's old room; it had the double; Amelia could have Mattie's, they could push the bed against the wall to stop her rolling out, though, by now she should be in a proper bed.

She read further down to find out when they would be arriving and smiled, Julia would have more at her birthday tea, they were due the day before, which gave her next to no time to organise the house, talk to Lucien and the children. Christopher had told her she could send a telegram to let him know her answer.

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Lucien arrived for lunch and surgery so she put it to him that they could, or rather that she could, cope with having the family to stay.

"We have room in the house, it will be nice for Amelia to have someone to play with and for Ted and Julia to share us with her." she put a sandwich in front of him, "it will be so nice to see them, darling." She flashed him a beautiful smile and he gave in.

"As long as it won't be too much work for you, love," he took her hand, "I'll pitch in where I can but if a case comes up..."

"I'll be fine," she leant forward and kissed him, "I'll send a telegram before I pick up Ted."

"Ok, if you're sure," he was fairly sure she'd already made her mind up, anyway. He hoped Ruby wouldn't want to be waited on hand a foot.

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Jean left the post office having sent the telegram and headed to pick up Ted. He had asked if he could choose a gift for Julia, as she had given him a birthday present, he was going to ask Mrs Brown if she could help him make a card for her. With her help he was making great strides at school, absorbing knowledge like a sponge; she had remarked that he was a good student and a pleasant boy to teach. Both Jean and Lucien were very happy to hear this, Jean suggested he had the Blake genes but he just said there was a lot of nurture in there, the way she was with him, which also brought him to make a decision about telling Ted his family history.

"I want to try to explain to him," he sat one evening with his whisky, "that I am his uncle, really. I think perhaps if I tell him I didn't know I had a sister because I was away in England when she was born."

"I suppose so," Jean sipped her sherry, "as you came back when your father was dying you would not have had time to talk to him about Pat."

"Do you think I should tell him I wanted to help her?"

"I think you need him to know that you love him and Julia," she leant across and kissed him. "Then wait for his questions."

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"What would you like to get for Julia, Ted?" Jean asked as they walked past the toyshop.

"Well, Aunty Jean," he tipped his head thoughtfully, Lucien said he got that from her, "last time we looked in the window there was a dolly. You said it was a rag doll, I think she might like it."

"Funnily enough, Ted," she smiled and stopped, "I had just the same thought. Now, as she is asleep, perhaps we can go in a buy it for her?"

Ted nodded and helped, as best he could, to lift the stroller over the step. For Ted it was an Aladdin's cave and he stood looking at all the toys and games, thinking his life was too short to ever play with everything.

Jean approached the counter and spoke to the man there. He was tall and thin, but had a twinkle in his eye.

"Hello," Jean spoke quietly, not wanting to wake Julia, "the other day you had a rag doll in the window, do you still have it, or something similar?"

"Ah, yes, madam," he turned round to the boxes on the shelves behind him and opened one. "I think this is what you are looking for."

He showed her a rag doll with yellow wool hair tied in pigtails, big blue eyes and wearing a patchwork pinafore dress.

"Just the one," she turned to Ted standing patiently by the stroller and showed him the doll.

He grinned and nodded.

"Thank you and what else for a one year old?" Jean looked round, "perhaps those," a set of coloured stacking rings, one ring for each colour of the rainbow, "and..." she looked round again, "oh, yes, a pull along toy, perfect, she's just started walking."

"An excellent choice, if I may say so," the shopkeeper smiled, "the ducks wings flap as it is pulled along and it quacks, but not too loudly. Do we have a birthday coming up?"

"We do," Jean smiled, reaching for her purse. She noticed Ted fingering a little wooden racing car. She nodded over then looked back at the man. He winked and picked one from under the counter. She paid for the toys, thanked the man and they left the shop. She never had to money to treat Christopher or Jack when they were small boys, but she wasn't going to spoil Ted, or Julia. He could consider this a reward for working so hard at his studies.

"Best head home, now, Ted," she smiled as they gently bounced the stroller down the step, "reading, dinner, bath and bed."

"Ok, Aunty Jean," he held the stroller, as he always did, and they headed up the street. They passed Miss Grey, who looked Jean up and down, glared at the children and then went on her way with her nose in the air. Jean thought she better have a word with Bryan, she had a feeling the woman was planning something she wouldn't like. Ramsay had been sentenced to six months for public affray and drunkenness and Jean had been waiting for some form of visitation with regard to the children's welfare. The last time they had seen Bryan and told him of the family connection he had agreed that they had a good case for permanent placement, even adoption, though they would have to see how Pat felt about this.

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Bryan Cross was not exactly pleased to see Miss Grey had put a note on his desk asking him to put the Ramsay children on the adoption list. He knew she hadn't spoken personally to him because he was bound to argue. In fact his involvement in the case had made him stronger, more sure of what he was doing and he was no longer cowed by the woman. Every report he did on the Blake's was favourable and, he submitted it not just to her, but to the board as well. He phoned the chairman and asked if he could have a meeting.

The chairman was surprised a junior social worker would call him but admired him for his gall and agreed, and they set a time which gave him enough time to nip up to the Blake's to discuss how they wanted to move forward.

"No, really?" Jean breathed, "is she that set on us not having children, even fostered."

"I don't know," Bryan sipped the tea, "but I do know that Pat is not deemed fit to care for them, nor does she want to. Now, we can ask her if she agrees to a kinship adoption, with you."

"What if she doesn't want that," Lucien leant over the table, "what if she cares so little for them..."

"Well, it depends how we phrase it," Bryan took out the file, "from my last conversation with you over her behaviour I would think that, if I was accompanied by a police officer, Sergeant Hobart springs to mind," he grinned cheekily, "and I told her that she would not have to worry about the children anymore..."

"Absolve her of all responsibility, you mean?" Jean sighed, "perhaps. If she hasn't asked about them, at all, then maybe she'll give up easily."

"Have you got a good lawyer?"

"Yes, I have," Lucien thought of the man who had helped him limit the damage his divorce had done.

"Well, I suggest you contact him," Bryan stood up, "if you want to proceed. I'm seeing the chairman, before Miss Grey goes too far."

"Bryan," Jean stopped him, "what has she got against us? I'd never met her until she told us we were too old to adopt."

"Dunno," He smiled and shook Lucien's hand, "I'll go and try to set the ball rolling."

"Thank you, Bryan," they smiled, "but it's for the children, not us."

"Of course."

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Bryan spent a good couple of hours explaining why he thought the Blake's were the best people to look after the two children. He showed the file, told him the background, how the children now were, how Ted was doing well at school.

"Honestly, sir," he insisted, "I can't think of anyone better, _and_ the doctor is their blood relative. Their mother is his half sister. In the absence of any other family..."

"I see," the chairman steepled his fingers, "now I have heard of Lucien Blake, well known figure in the town. Well able to provide for the children?"

"Oh yes, sir," Bryan nodded, "the first thing his wife did was to go out and get a cot, stroller and clothes for them, and not just op shop stuff either, brand new. They made sure Ted had a birthday tea and gifts, even the police superintendant who lodges there gave him a gift. They're well fed, Ted is on the infant soccer team at school and one or the other attends practice each week. The children adore them, Mrs Blake confided in me that Ted, when he gets excited, calls her 'mum' and Dr Blake, 'dad'. What more can I say?"

"Well, Cross," he mused, "I think, given what Miss Grey has said I think, for a change, I'd like to be in on the ground with this one, do a home check with you."

"Oh, right," Bryan scratched his head, "um, I did do one, when the children moved in. I even helped sort the beds out."

"Did you now?" he grinned, "well, I think we should pay them a visit, say, tomorrow afternoon?"

"I'll let them know," Bryan rose and shook his hand, he felt a little more confident now.

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Jean was surprised to get a call from Bryan telling her the chairman of the board would be paying them a visit to assess the suitability for them to adopt their half nephew and niece. She put the phone down and had a look round, the only thing they didn't have was stair gates. The children didn't need to go upstairs but now Julia was walking and exploring she was ever likely to 'explore' the stairs. Apart from that she decided she was pretty confident that there was nothing more she could do. Bryan hadn't said what time in the afternoon they would be arriving so, if she was picking Ted up from school then Lucien would have to deal with them until she got back.

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"So, when I've dropped Ted off I'll go and get them," Jean told him about the stair gates, "one for the top and one for the bottom."

"Right," he had seen them in patients homes but, like Jean he hadn't thought they would need them. "Suppose, with Amelia coming too..."

"Yes, always a good idea," she smiled, putting the dinner out and calling the children through.

They changed to subject of conversation to the visitors due the following week. Jean had said it would be a good idea to introduce the idea of her grown son and family staying with them and found a photograph of them to show Ted.

"His name is Christopher, his wife is Ruby and the little girl is Amelia," Jean pointed at each. "I don't see him often, Ted, so it's quite a treat for me."

"Ok," Ted looked at the photograph, "he looks a bit, erm, cross."

"He just doesn't smile a lot, Ted," Jean agreed, "he's just quiet."

"Amelia is a bit younger than you, Ted," Lucien told him, "and a bit older than Julia, we hope you can play together, when you're not at school."

"Doesn't she go to school?"

"Still too young, dear," Jean smoothed his hair, "but if you want to show her your books and toys I'm sure she'd like that."

She put the children to bed, read to Ted, then went to help Lucien finish the dishes.

"Well, what do you think?" she asked.

"Ted needs to see he comes first when they're here," he emptied the bowl, "I think he feels a bit..."

"...insecure? Yes I got that feeling too." She went to get the things she had bought in the toyshop. "I bought him this today," she showed the little wooden car, "he was taken with it in the shop, but didn't ask for it. I thought a reward, for doing so well at school, but, perhaps just to show I love him?"

"A lovely idea," he kissed her, "at breakfast, I think. Why did you wait?"

"Just wanted to know if you thought it a good idea, you know, as it isn't his birthday or Christmas," she sighed, "I was never able to treat the boys on a whim, like this."

"I think Ted deserves treats on a whim, darling," he wrapped his arms round her, "and yes, it is a good idea, whenever you think you should."

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Ted's eyes lit up when he saw the car in his place the next morning.

"But Aunty Jean," he wrapped his arms round her, "I've had my birthday."

"Just a treat, Ted," she brushed his hair, "for doing so well at school." She turned and started to cook his breakfast.

"Thank you...mum," he whispered, he couldn't see the warm smile spread across her face, 'oh please,' she prayed.

She put his breakfast in front of him and commanded him, softly, to eat, while she wiped the butter and toast crumbs off his messy sister. Julia really enjoyed her food and generally managed to get it all over her face and in her hair.

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Jean entered the baby supplies shop thinking that, at this rate, she'd be on first name terms with the owner. They found some wooden gates for stairs or doorways. They would need attaching to the walls with screws, everything was included.

The gates stored in the car Jean headed to the station. Lucien was not much good with drills and screwdrivers, and he was in the morgue anyway, so she decided to ask Matthew if any of his men were any good at doing such jobs around the house.

"I realise it's a cheek, Matthew," she sat opposite him with Julia on her knee, "but I'll never get anyone in time for the visit this afternoon."

Matthew smiled and looked around him. He wasn't sure if there was anyone who did such things so;

"Right you lot," he called and heads turned, "anyone here good with a drill and screwdriver?"

With Jean sitting there they knew it was something for Mrs Blake so he was sure to get an eager response.

"Er, what needs doin', boss?" Bill Hobart asked.

"Stair gates, Bill," Jean turned and flashed him a glorious smile, "we're having a visit from Family Welfare this afternoon and..."

"Got 'em?"

"Yes, they're in the car."

"Go on, Bill," Matthew nodded, "a good job, mind you."

"Need to swing by my place for my tools, Mrs Blake," he got into the car, "if you don't mind."

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"This is very good of you, Bill," Jean smiled as she turned into the drive, "Lucien..."

"Old Dr Blake wasn't much good with stuff like that, either, if I remember rightly," Bill took the gates out of the car boot, "he used to get Reg Martin, but he's long gone now."

"I remember," she unlocked the front door and placed Julia on the floor to toddle down the hall.

Jean showed Bill where she wanted the gates and went to put the kettle on, reasoning he would at least like a cuppa and maybe a slice of cake.

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"There you go, Mrs Blake," Bill sauntered into the kitchen followed by Julia who had stood watching him put the lower gate on. She had got used to his solemn, sometimes grumpy face on their walks in town or on the rare occasion Jean took her into the station to leave something for Lucien or some biscuits for the officers.

"Thanks, Bill," she smiled, "tea?"

"Er, please," he sat where she indicated and she lifted Julia into the highchair, before pouring tea and milk and pushing a piece of cake towards him. "So, gotta keep her from climbing the stairs, now?" he nodded to the child happily eating small pieces of cake. Jean usually gave her fruit for a morning snack but thought it would be unfair to give Bill cake and not her.

"Yes, and we are due a visit from Family Welfare," but she didn't tell him about the children being Lucien's relatives. She knew it would eventually get round but they had decided to keep it between them and the courts, for now, they didn't want to blacken anyone's name, least of all Thomas'.

"Hope it's not that Grey woman," Bill blew across his tea, "hard faced co...creature."

"Oh, you know her then?" Jean wondered if he had some information that would tell her why she was hell bent on stopping them having the children.

"Do I?" he snorted, "wanted to have little Andrew Cooper put in care, you know with that do over Deb and that drongo Sean McBride. It took me and the boss, _and_ the doc, to put a stop to her little game. She was only going to put him up with the Sisters at the orphanage."

"Why would she do that?" Jean was surprised, she saw Deb Cooper around town and, although they weren't close, she could see Andrew was well cared for and growing well. "It seems so cruel."

"Yeah, well she's like that."

"Apparently it's the chairman of the board, with young Bryan Cross," she told him, "he told us she wanted him to put the children on the adoption list."

"Can't you, adopt them, that is?"

"There is a way," Jean admitted, "and we're going to try it. I don't know how it will affect Ted if he's taken from us." She blinked away tears and even Bill could see how much it meant to her, to have the children. "Officially, we're too old to be considered as adoptive parents."

Bill whistled and decided he'd drop the subject, he didn't want to get in too deep. Privately he thought any kid would be lucky to have Jean Blake for a mother. "Well," he stood up, "best get back or the boss will think you've got me doing more than putting gates up."

"Thanks again, Bill," she smiled, "shall I drive you back?"

"Nah, thanks, I'll walk," he grinned, "thanks for the cake and tea."

"Leave your tool box," she let him out of the door, "I'll have Lucien drop it off, or I will when I go to pick Ted up from school."

"Right-ho!"

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With surgery in full swing and Julia toddling round Jean looked at the clock and realised she would have to go and pick up Ted, even though Family Welfare hadn't arrived. She poked her nose into Lucien's consulting room.

"Doctor, sorry to interrupt," she smiled at the patient, "I need to go and pick up Ted, I'll take Julia." They had agreed that if this happened he would listen out for a knock at the door, but the patients weren't to know this or why.

"Right, Jean," he smiled, "drive carefully."

She smiled and would have blown him a kiss if they had been alone.

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He was still chattering on about his day when they arrived back home.

"Uncle Lucien is working, Ted," she warned as he headed to the front door, "into the kitchen and I'll get you a drink and biscuit."

"Ok," he opened the door, "then can I read to you, only I've got to an exciting part in the story?"

"That would be lovely, Ted," she smiled, closing the door, "now down to the kitchen."

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Jean had just taken Lucien a cup of tea and was heading back to the kitchen when there was a knock at the door. She supposed she was grateful they would come now, when surgery was on, the children were relaxed and happy and she was preparing the dinner. In other words, just a normal afternoon chez Blake.

"Bryan," she smiled, "please, do come in."

"Thank you, Mrs Blake," he turned to his companion, a small rotund man with a cheerful face and ruddy cheeks. "This is Mr Merchant, the Chairman."

"Lovely to meet you," she held out her hand, "tea?"

"Good to meet you too, Mrs Blake," he shook her hand firmly, "young Cross has told me much about you."

"Oh," she wasn't sure what to say, but she knew, or hoped she did, that Bryan would have been complimentary, "please, come into the kitchen the children are just having a drink."

"Hello, Ted," Bryan greeted him, smiling, "how was school today?"

"Great, Mr Cross," Ted beamed, "I got a gold star for my writing, today, and all my sums right."

"Marvellous, and the soccer?"

"We've got a match on Saturday," he grinned, "against...er..."

"St Patrick's infants, dear," Jean supplied.

"Yeah, them," he returned to his milk and biscuit.

Mr Merchant was introduced to the children as Bryan's boss and he sat down with them as Jean made a fresh pot of tea and put out some more biscuits. He looked at the two youngsters, both clean, well apart from the crumbs on Julia's dress and the piece of biscuit she had managed to get in her hair, well dressed and above all happy, they exuded happiness.

"Aunty Jean," Ted took his plate and cup to the sink, "please can I go and play with the train set."

"As long as you have nothing to do for school, yes," she smiled.

"No, I just want to read to you, but I can do that later, if you're busy," he went to hug her.

"Ted, I'm never too busy to hear you read," she wasn't going to let a little matter of a Family Welfare visit to stop her hearing him read. "Why don't you bring your book to the table and Mr Cross can hear you too."

"Ok," he did as asked and, with Jean's help with the longer, harder words, he finished the chapter he was on; not that it was long; and found out that the train in the story did get to where he was supposed to be and delivered the toys and things for the children, with a little help.

"Oh, Ted," she kissed the top of his head, "that was lovely, you read so well, and I'm glad the story has a happy ending."

Bryan and Mr Merchant watched the little boys eyes light up with pride, "I remember that story from when I was little, Ted," Bryan smiled, "I used to go around the house saying 'I think I can, I think I can,' it drove my mother mad."

Ted laughed then asked if he could go and play, and did she want him to take Julia with him.

"Alright, off you pop," she let him slide of her lap, "but perhaps give Julia the blocks."

She lifted Julia down and brushed the crumbs off her dress and retrieved the piece of biscuit from her curls, shaking her head in disbelief. Ted held his little sister's hand and slowly helped her walk to the corner where Lucien had set the train set up, permanently.

"Now, gentlemen, sorry about that," Jean started to apologise, "with us having visitors next week Ted needs to see I will not change the way things are done, especially when it comes to reading or schoolwork."

"Quite right too," Mr Merchant nodded, "now, I am sure you knew why we are here, today."

"Yes, I do," she sighed, "I don't really know what to say..." she heard Lucien show his last patient out and go to greet Ted before joining them in the kitchen, "this is my husband..."

"Dr Blake, good to meet you." Mr Merchant stood up and extended his hand, "Oliver Merchant, Chairman of the board for Family Welfare."

Lucien shook his hand, "nice to meet you." He sat next to Jean and took her hand, under the table. "Now gentlemen," he continued, "what do you need to know?"

They went through the file, how the children had come to them, what they had done so far, what had happened when the doctor had been to see Pat, and what they would do for them in the future, should they be allowed a kinship adoption.

"Well," Lucien leaned back, still holding Jean's hand, "nothing that we wouldn't do if they were our own children. See they get a good education, are fed and clothed, and loved, of course, probably the most important, set them on the right path..."

"You both have children from your first marriages, don't you?" Mr Merchant looked at them, his expression gave nothing away but Jean was sure he had looked into their backgrounds, so they would know about Jack.

"We do," she sighed, "and maybe we made mistakes, but doesn't everybody? It wasn't for want of love, though, I love my boys, I know Lucien loves his daughter. Just because they are far away the love doesn't stop."

Mr Merchant smiled, "of course," he nodded slightly, "now, their accommodation..."

"Lucien, why don't you show Mr Merchant their room, I need to just attend to dinner a moment." Jean stood up, "I think Dr Harvey is joining us tonight."

She'd asked Matthew to ask Alice, thinking it would be a good idea, if FW were still there they could see how well the children fitted into their lives, and anyway, it had been a while since Alice had dined with them.

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"Right," Lucien stood at the doorway to the children's room, "this is where they sleep, at the moment. Of course, if they are to stay with us then one of them will move to their own room as they grow."

Mr Merchant noted the cleanliness, the newness of the cot and the wooden box that contained toys.

"They use the bathroom off our suite," Lucien pointed to the door to the studio, but there is another one upstairs if that one's occupied." He showed them the living room where Ted was busy loading cars onto the flat train truck and Julia was offering him blocks to add to the pile,

"They have free run of this level, but we have installed gates on the stairs now Julia is walking, and they know, or Ted does, that they are not allowed in the consulting room during surgery." Lucien pointed out various aspects of the house as he heard Matthew announce his arrival and Ted run up the hall.

"Uncle Matthew!" he called, "I've finished that story, the train made it."

"Hello, Ted," Lucien and the guests turned the corner to see Matthew ruffle the boy's hair, "did he now? Ah, here's your little shadow." Julia came wobbling towards him, arms outstretched calling for "Maff Maff!" She held onto his stick as he limped down to the kitchen.

"Jean," he smiled at her, in her usual place, "something smells good."

"Hello, Matthew," she shut the oven door, "just a stew. Will Dr Harvey be joining us?"

"Yes, she's gone home to shower and change, tough day."

"Oh, Lucien didn't say anything." She folded the oven glove and put it on the work surface.

"No, it came in during surgery," he looked round for the voices, "visitors?"

"Family Welfare," she smiled, "we haven't told Ted, so..."

"Mum's the word," he smiled and reached over to squeeze her hand.

"I do hope so," she sighed.

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So, will Mr Merchant agree with Bryan? Why was Alice's day so tough? and how will Pat react to the news?


	8. Chapter 8

**Saturday:**

Lucien, Jean, Matthew and Julia cheered as Ted hammered the ball into the net, their voices could be heard above everybody else's, Alice cheered inwardly having been dragged to his first proper soccer match. If she was needed at the morgue, Matthew had told her, Bill or Danny would know where to find her.

"Alright, but I'm not attending every match," she huffed.

Ted had been so enthusiastic at dinner after 'the visit', she couldn't disappoint him and had told him she would 'try', fervently hoping she would be needed at the hospital, maybe the case she had started that day would drag on 'til Saturday. But it hadn't.

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 **4 days earlier:**

She waited until the children were in bed before asking Lucien if she could talk to him in the study.

"So, Alice," he waited for her to sit then took the chair opposite, "Matthew said you had a tough day."

"Well, I suppose it was," she stared over his shoulder as if looking for a way to tell him, "I had two bodies brought in. The ambos said it was a hit and run. A man and a woman, late twenties, early thirties. They were found on Davey Street, but there was a stroller flung a bit further off, one like Jean has for Julia. The stroller was empty, Danny and some of the other officers had a good look round but it looked like the child had been taken, deliberately."

"So a hit and run with motive?" he sat back and thought. "Very odd."

"Indeed," she agreed, "of course our prime concern is the whereabouts of the child."

"Any idea of the car?"

"Nobody saw it, they heard the screech of tyres but by the time anyone got out it was gone and the stroller was empty."

"Two people, then," he closed his eyes, visualising the event, "one to drive the other to grab the baby."

"That would work," she nodded.

"But why?"

"I'm not a clairvoyant, Lucien," she huffed, "but whatever the reason a small child is now an orphan."

"I take it the neighbours have been interviewed?"

"Yes, they gave the names of the couple as Steven and Rachel McKenzie, the baby is Dawn and about a year old." Alice nodded, "the autopsy was fairly straight forward, I suppose it hit me because of Julia."

Lucien raised his eyebrows.

"Ok, I know I'm not the maternal type, but seeing how she has come on with you two, I immediately thought of a child torn unwillingly from its parents," she sighed, "it's wrong, Lucien. There are plenty of children needing good homes..."

"Quite... quite," he was deep in thought, "I wonder, has Miss Grey turned down some over thirty-fives, like she did us, and they have done the only thing they could think of."

"But, they could have hurt the child," Alice gasped, "if they wanted one that desperately, surely a dead of night kidnapping or, from outside a shop, I see plenty of prams parked outside shops, with the baby in them."

They called Matthew in and put forward Alice's and his theory.

"I've got the lads looking at the mechanics in town, all of them," he sat in the chair behind the desk, "given you," he looked towards Alice, "said there'd be damage to the car."

"Tomorrow, I suggest you scour the shops, see if anyone has purchased a large amount of baby paraphernalia very recently. Jean'll tell you what they would need."

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Jean gave Matthew a list of the things she had bought when Ted and Julia had come to them and said if she saw anything unusual on her walks in town she would let him know. She knew most of the mothers, one way or another, so a new mother with a toddler would stick in her mind. She also said she would speak to Bryan, he would know if Miss Grey had upset someone.

Bryan had checked the files for new applications and found two, one from a couple just on the age limit and one from a couple where the man was near forty, but the wife was ten years younger. He knew he shouldn't, such things were confidential, but he passed on the names and addresses and said he hoped they found the child soon.

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Jean found the whole thing disturbing in the extreme. Much as she had wanted to give a child a home she had never countenanced the idea of murdering parents to take their child. She shopped more slowly the day after Alice had told them of the case, people stopped and spoke to her as usual, having got used to her with the children. Someone flashed by, almost a shadow out of the corner of her eye, but, otherwise nothing out of the ordinary.

She picked up Ted from school and took him home. She had the worrying feeling that she had missed something, something very wrong; not with Ted or Julia, but something connected to the case. Perhaps it was just the thought that a child was missing, kidnapped, stripped of her family, in a way that Ted and Julia weren't. The McKenzie's, by all accounts were loving parents, and although she didn't know them she felt somehow connected.

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"Lucien," she cuddled close that evening, "it worries me, this case."

"Too close to home?" he put his arm round her and kissed her head, "though I agree, it is strange? I mean, why kill the parents in such a haphazard way?"

"I'm sure it comes down to Miss Grey," she sighed, "being so... so... oh, so determined to thwart hopeful couples in their desire to be parents. She's so cold, so unsympathetic. Do you suppose she was 'disappointed' in her early life?"

"Could have been," he agreed, starting to nibble her earlobe, "but I can't see her as a mother, can you? She's so cold, hard, even, the way she deals with children as things to be parcelled off to 'suitable' couples, of a certain age."

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Jean was standing talking to Bill Hobart, thanking him, again, for putting the gates on, and telling how Julia would stick out her bottom lip if they were closed and she couldn't get up the stairs.

"Stubborn, then, is she?" he grinned, looking down at the angelic face surrounded by the red-gold curls tied with ribbons.

"Rather," she agreed, then turned to the sound of a child apparently having a tantrum. "Oh dear, somebody's not happy."

They could see across the street a child in a stroller, screaming. She appeared, from what Jean could see at that distance, about a year old and was fighting against the straps that held her safely in the seat. The woman with her, Jean assumed it was her mother, was obviously frustrated and embarrassed and was getting increasingly annoyed with her little girl. She crouched down in front of her and took her by the shoulders. Jean could see she was about to shake her into submission and hurried over, with Bill behind her. As they got closer they could hear her, just, above the screeches, Julia had her hands over her ears;

"For god's sake," she snapped, "will you just shut up!"

"Are you alright?" Jean asked, gently.

The woman turned round and glared; Jean looked from her to the child, she couldn't be her mother, her hair was dark, while the child's was white-blond. Bill touched Jean on the shoulder and pulled her to one side showing a photograph he held in his pocket, for identifying the child who had been taken from its stroller in Davey Street. The picture, one of a young family, showed a child very like the one, now red in the face, trying to get out of the pushchair in front of them.

Jean turned back and crouched down smiling as if, for all the world, she was just going to offer some advice. She reached out and stroked the child's face, pushing the waves from the side of her face.

"Hush, pet," she soothed, "it's alright." She pushed the hair away from the wide grey-blue eyes on both sides of her face, "shh," she kept her smile, her gentle expression, all the while noticing a graze on the side of her face.

The woman pushed her own hair off her face, frozen to the spot as she realised Jean had seen the graze. Jean moved her hand down to unclip the harness and lifted the child out, still soothing her, stroking her head and holding her close. She nodded to Bill.

"Is this your child?" he asked, defying the woman to lie to him.

"Of course," she blustered, "terrible twos, that's all." She snapped and reached over to Jean.

"She's barely a year," Jean informed him, "this is fear." The baby was calming down now, Jean's practised hand and gentle demeanour settling her.

"Mama?" Julia reached up from the stroller. Jean bent to her and let her touch the little girl in her arms. "Baba." she murmured.

"Madam," Bill turned from the sight that melted even his heart, "I think my boss would like a word, you see, I don't believe this is your child, she looks very much like a little girl that was snatched from her stroller three days ago."

"Ridiculous," she stammered, "she's my baby," she turned to Jean and held her hands out for the child, "come on Karen, time to go."

'Karen' opened her mouth to start up again, Jean jiggled her and shushed her again.

"It's alright, Dawn," she looked for a reaction and got one, a small one, but there were signs of recognition in the child's eyes and she nestled closer.

Bill took the woman's elbow and gently encouraged her to go with him, "can you manage both, Mrs Blake?" he turned to her.

"Um, probably," she looked from one stroller to the other. Hers was a good size, bigger than the other, as she had considered Ted when she chose it. She bent back down to Julia, "share, Julia." she smiled and set about sitting Dawn in the pushchair with Julia, clipping the harness in and encouraging Julia to put her arms round the slightly younger child. Being a naturally affectionate child, Julia was quite happy to cuddle the other.

"If I fold this one up, Sergeant," she looked at Bill, "can you carry it?"

"Sure thing," he smiled. He wondered if Dawn would find a home with the Blake's if they couldn't find her family.

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Matthew raised his eyebrows at the sight that met his eyes. Bill Hobart, a strange woman and Jean Blake carrying _two_ babies!

"Maff Maff!" Julia held her arms out to him, Danny sniggered at his desk and got a glare that should have turned him to stone, he bent his head to his typing up statements.

"Now then, Bill," he turned his attention to the group before him, "what's all this?"

"Disturbance in the street, boss," Bill informed him, "caught our eyes, me n' Mrs Blake. Seems this little one," he nodded to Dawn, "was trying to get out of her stroller. Mrs Blake and I went to see if we could offer any help and, well, from the picture you gave us, this babe looks more like the McKenzie's child than hers."

"She seems to recognise the name 'Dawn'," Jean nodded to the fairer of the two children, "rather than 'Karen', which is what this lady called her, and she has a small graze on the side of her face, which she could have got if she'd fallen out of a stroller."

Matthew indicated Jean sit, two children must be quite heavy and awkward to stand up with all the time.

"Thank you," she settled a child on each of her legs.

"Hobart, would you take..." he looked at the woman, who so far had no name.

"Glenda Forsyth," she glared at him.

"Mrs Forsyth to the interview room, I'll be down in a minute."

"Ok, boss," he went off with her, still holding her elbow.

"Forsyth was one of the names Bryan gave us," Jean noted, "the ones who were just on the age limit. I'd say she was thirty five, easily."

"That's what I thought, too," Matthew pushed himself up and took his stick, "I'm going to see what all this is about but I have a feeling Miss Grey is, not involved perhaps, but has pushed them to take such action."

"By not putting them on the list as potential adoptive parents, you think?"

"Yes." He nodded, "now what are we going to do with this one?"

"Have you found any family?" Jean asked, wondering if she could fit them both in the one cot.

"Mrs McKenzie's parents," he smiled, "they live in Perth so they aren't going to be here immediately. They're driving and said they would be here tomorrow."

"It's such a long way," Jean sighed, "where are they staying?"

"I've booked them into Soldier's Hill Hotel," Matthew stroked Julia's head.

"Do you want me to look after her until then?" Jean smiled, "otherwise it will be with Sister Josephine..."

"Can you manage? It's a lot to ask, but it would be good to tell them, when they ring tonight, that she is safe."

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It had been an emotional interview, with tears and confessions. Mr Forsyth was brought in and admitted he was the driver. He's done his best not to hit the stroller and it had been done on a spur of the moment. Miss Grey had told them that by the time they found a suitable child they would be over the age limit.

"No, she never mentioned nothing about fostering," Mr Forsyth huffed, "why?"

"She did the same to Dr Blake and his wife, but they are fostering two children, long term," Matthew sighed, "the woman who took Dawn out of the stroller."

"Oh," Mrs Forsyth sniffed, "she never suggested anything like that. I'd like to have tried that."

"Where's the baby now?" Mr Forsyth asked.

"Mrs Blake is going to look after her until her grandparents get here," Matthew leant forward, "they will take her, and raise her as their own. You have denied a child her family, a loving home, by all accounts, and while I understand why you did it, it was still the wrong thing to do. You have murdered two young people, and even if they had just been badly hurt you would not be allowed to ever foster children. Hobart," he turned to Bill, "take them to the cells, one each."

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When the whole story was passed to Bryan and Oliver Merchant Miss Grey was called to account for her harsh methods, but in particular her attitude to the Blake's.

It turned out, after a long meeting and many questions, that when she was very young she had become pregnant by her boyfriend. He had refused to 'do the right thing' and she had tried to pass herself off as a widow, moving from her family in Castlemaine and setting up home in Ballarat. Rather than cutting her off completely, her parents had paid for the house and settled an allowance on her, but never wanted to see her again. Sadly, Miss Grey had lost the baby, quite late on, and the doctor that attended her had told her that she would struggle to carry a child to term.

"That doctor?" Bryan Cross had a feeling.

"Dr Thomas Blake," she huffed, "but it was all his fault, he took that chance away from me!"

"So you blame his whole family, his son and his new wife. This is a vendetta against the Blake's, totally unacceptable, Miss Grey," Merchant had said, crossly, "you can't take out your disappointments on others. Your harsh dealing with the Forsyth's has lead to the deaths of young parents and the orphaning of their daughter. We are not in the business of hurting people, Miss Grey, we are here to help, nurture and find ways for childless couples of all ages, to achieve their goals. Perhaps it would be better if you sought employment elsewhere, I am not sure this is the right place for you."

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Lucien had gone through his father's books to find any account of Elizabeth Grey, and a miscarriage. He found a small note just to confirm what she had told the board, that he had tidied up the patient, but no reason for his diagnosis.

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Jean went to the McKenzie's house with Danny to collect Dawn's clothes and toys. They found a neat and clean home, a lovely nursery for the baby filled with pretty dresses, neatly folded nappies and everything a loved child should have. She found it rather sad and had a little weep that night when she told Lucien what they had found.

Ted and Julia had to be the best thing that had happened to Dawn over the past few days. They were both gentle and kind, sharing their toys and cuddling her when she got upset. She ate well, sitting on Jean's knee and enjoyed her bath with Julia. Jean was concerned she would have trouble settling at night, but, after tucking her up, toe to toe with Julia in the cot she seemed to be relaxed and comfortable. Jean got up to her in the small hours but she quickly settled back down and slept until the other two woke and played with her.

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"Not taking in another lost soul, Mrs Blake," Mrs Wilson, Fraser's mother, grinned when she saw the loaded pushchair.

"Good morning, Mrs Wilson," Jean smiled, "no, this little one is going to her grandparents later today."

"Oh," Mrs Wilson thought for a moment then her mouth dropped open, "it's not the baby that was involved in the hit and run? Oh poor thing, she's beautiful."

"She's a little sweetheart," Jean agreed, "and I'm glad she has some family to go to. They will be able to tell her all about her parents as she grows."

Jean left Ted, telling him to work hard and have a good day, before walking home to wait for Mr and Mrs Dunbar to call and collect their granddaughter.

She decided to carry on as she had intended, so some dusting and running the vacuum round. She had washed the clothes Dawn had worn the previous day and they were all ready to be packed with the rest of her things. She used her nappies to save the Dunbar's having to take dirty ones with them. She was just putting the kettle on when there was a knock at the door. Checking the babies were happily playing in the living room she ran up the hallway and opened the door to a tearful but pleasant looking couple, perhaps a little older than herself, standing there.

"Mr and Mrs Dunbar," Jean held out her hand, "Jean Blake, please, do come in."

She took them into the living room and invited them to sit while she got tea. Quickly, she laid a tray and put out a plate of biscuits as well as two cups of milk for the little girls.

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The awkward atmosphere was broken by Dawn crawling and Julia toddling over to them.

"She won't know us," Mrs Dunbar sniffed, "she's only seen us once."

"She responds to quiet voices," Jean lifted her up and passed her over, "here's grandma? Dawn."

"Nana," Mrs Dunbar smiled and held her arms out for her granddaughter, "hello sweetie, you are so like your mummy when she was little."

She held her close and took in her baby smell, Dawn reached for the string of beads round her neck and happily bit down on them.

"It's very kind of you to take care of her, Mrs Blake," she whispered, "I believe she would have gone to the local children's home, otherwise."

"Well, she shared a cot with Julia," she lifted her foster daughter up onto her knee, "but she seemed to sleep alright. Woke only once in the night, but settled quickly."

"How did you find her?" Mr Dunbar asked, reaching over and stroking the child's fair hair.

"The woman that took her was having trouble calming her down, she was trying to get out of the stroller. I just went to see if I could help." Jean gave Julia a biscuit and offered one to Dawn. "It was obvious she wasn't her mother, the way she was with her and the difference in hair and eye colour. Dawn's so fair she must have had fair haired parents. Being a doctor's wife you pick up things."

"Yes both Rachel and Steven have, had fair hair."

They continued to chat about Dawn's parents, how Steven had been doing well as a carpenter and Rachel stayed at home to care for the baby.

"Why did the people who did this, do it?" Mrs Dunbar finally got up the courage to ask, "I think I'd like Dawn to know, when she's older."

Jean had asked Matthew if it was alright to tell them the full story and he had agreed, as the perpetrators had been apprehended. So she told them about Miss Grey and her efforts to thwart peoples attempts to adopt, was hard and unkind especially to those over thirty five. She told them of her own experience and how Elizabeth Grey had a vendetta against the Blake family after losing her own child many years ago and being treated by her husband's father, who she blamed for ending her hopes of being a mother, for good. And she told them about the Forsyths, thinking they had no way to turn to fulfil their dream of having a child.

"So this little one..." Mrs Dunbar looked at Julia, happily spreading biscuit crumbs everywhere.

"Fostered, but, we may be able to adopt, a kinship adoption," Jean smiled and kissed the top of Julia's head.

"She'll be a lucky little girl," Mrs Dunbar smiled then pulled her back a little straighter, "I'm afraid we need to get going, it's a long journey. We can't thank you enough for looking after Dawn, we'll do our best with her, love her and set her on the right path."

"Just love her, she's a beautiful little girl," Jean stood up, "and though we've only known her a short time, we'll miss her."

"Would you mind if we kept in touch, I mean just occasionally?"

"That would be lovely," Jean smiled, "now, her things are in a case and a box in the hall. I've washed all her things, that she wore yesterday."

"Thank you, that was so kind of you."

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Jean waved them off and closed the door, they would have struggled with three children, but it was a struggle she would have been prepared to take on. She wiped a tear from her eye and hugged Julia that little bit closer.

"Come on, little lady," she touched her nose, "let's go and tidy up the tray and have some lunch."

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 **Saturday:**

Matthew had picked Alice up that morning, and here she was, standing watching small boys run round after a football.

The score was two all, which everyone was very pleased with. Parents congratulated their children and players slapped each other on the back. The coaches declared it a good clean match and hoped there would be many more.

As they stood in St Patrick's school hall partaking of the refreshments the mothers had provided, Matthew sought out Ted to let him know he was taking Dr Harvey home.

"My knee's beginning to ache, Ted," he ruffled the boys hair, "so I'd best give it a rest. You played well today, proud of you, mate." He grinned at him.

"Thanks, Uncle Matthew," Ted grinned, his mouth full of biscuit, "will you tell Dr Harvey thank you for coming."

"I will," he patted his shoulder and limped off to find Alice and tell her, her ordeal was over. She was drinking tea with Jean and wondering where he had gone. "Right, Alice," he grinned, "come on, my leg's killing me..."

Jean didn't think it was that bad, judging by the grin on his face, but let it go, it was only for Alice's sake anyway.

"Thanks for coming, Alice," Jean smiled, "it means a lot to Ted."

"Yes, well, he played well," Alice mustered a smile but Jean knew it had been near purgatory for her so she hoped Matthew was going to make it up to her, big time!

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"I didn't see Blake when we left," Matthew noted, slipping into the passenger seat, Alice could drive back.

"No, he's been roped in as match doctor and physiotherapist," she pulled out of the car park, "I rather think he's enjoying himself."

"Yeah, well, Thomas was not always there for him at school events," Matthew thought back to when they were Ted's age, "he wants to do it right for the lad."

"Not having had such a marvellous childhood myself," Alice mused, "I can understand that."

Matthew looked at her from the corner of his eye, she rarely alluded to her upbringing and when she did it was not a positive experience, it seemed to him. There was no emotion there, just concentration on her driving.

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Jean had delegated Ted's post match clean up to Lucien, he could check for bruises or cuts while he was at it, and she could wash his kit. She smiled as she did so, at his success on the field and his pure joy at being able to join in with his friends. She giggled at Alice's reaction to being dragged along, Matthew shouldn't have done it, she could have pleaded a headache, but she gamely stood and watched Ted and his team mates. Jean hoped Matthew had plans to spoil her rotten for that and doubted they would see him again that day.

She made Ted a special tea which he tucked into with gusto. Lucien grinned and Jean thought he seemed much more relaxed than when the children had come to them and he was worried he didn't know how to be a father.

When the children were finally settled, and there was still no sign of Matthew, they headed into their studio bedroom and lit the fire.

Lucien swirled his whisky in the glass and leant back with his arm round Jean. She smiled at him and then sat gazing into the flames.

"What are you thinking, Jean?" he asked, now drawing circles with his finger on her back as she leant forward.

"We could have managed," she turned to him, "with Dawn, if her grandparents hadn't been found."

"I'm sure we could," he pulled her back so she was lying against his chest, "but she is in the best place, now."

"I know," she leant up and kissed his chin, "and you, what are you thinking about?"

"That today was near perfect," he sighed and put his glass down, the better to draw her into a proper, lover's kiss.

"Near perfect?" she raised her eyebrows, "and what would make it perfect?"

"Oh, something like this..." he went back to kissing her and she responded...

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So, one case cleared up, now visitors and Ted and Julia... how will Pat react to the news the Blake's want to adopt her children?


	9. Chapter 9

Jean had two days to make the rooms up for her son and his family. In between times she still had the surgery to see to, shopping to do, meals to cook, children to care for and housework. Lucien said it was like living with a whirlwind and was rather glad there was no case for him to be involved in, so he could help her where he could.

"While I'm shopping," she passed Ted his breakfast, "would you make the beds in Charlie's and Mattie's rooms, please."

"Anything, darling," he smiled, "towels out for them?"

She stopped and looked at him in surprise, "er, yes, please," stunned he would remember such a thing.

"You don't have a housekeeper without learning a few things," he teased and she grinned.

"Cheek."

"Well that and," he took a mouthful of orange juice, "you told me to put towels on Matthew's bed when he first came to stay."

"Right," she helped Julia eat her porridge and thought about the other things that needed doing.

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Ted in the care of Mrs Brown, Jean headed into town to get the groceries and meat she would need for the next couple of days. At some point in time she had to make a cake for Julia so she made sure she bought extra baking ingredients as well.

She popped into the newsagents to top up on puzzle books for Ted, who got through them at an alarming rate, but Miss Burns said that was probably why he had come on so quickly at school, dot to dots and wordsearches were just the thing for reading and maths.

Mrs Toohey passed her and they stopped to talk, Jean remarking she hadn't seen her around for while.

"No, I've been with another family, in Bendigo," she smiled, "but that post has finished now and I'm waiting for the agency to send me somewhere else."

"Does it suit you?" Jean asked, "not knowing from week to week where you'll be."

"I don't mind, and most posts are fairly long term, usually a month or more," she looked down at the pushchair, "I didn't know..."

"Julia? We're fostering her," Jean smiled, "and her brother, Ted."

"Oh, I see," Evelyn nodded, not really seeing at all. Why would a couple, not in the first flush of youth want to take on small children?

"Well, got to get on," she made to push the stroller towards home, "lovely to see you again, Evelyn."

"And you, Jean."

Jean smiled as she walked away, Evelyn was a strange one, she had always thought, but at least she hadn't been one of the gossips before her marriage to Lucien.

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"Lucien!" she called as she opened the door, "I'm back from shopping!"

"Need a hand?" he was there at the far end of the hall with a big grin on his handsome features.

"Please," she grinned back, "what's the grin for?"

"Just had a call from Merchant, at Family Welfare," he lifted the basket from under the pushchair, "they have no objection to a kinship adoption. Bryan is going to see Pat today, taking Bill as insurance, to get her to sign the papers."

"Oh, right, so we may have something to tell Ted, after school?" she let Julia out of her seat and let her toddle down to the kitchen.

"Hopefully," he nodded, "what do you think he'll say?"

"Honestly, darling, I don't know," she started to put the groceries away, "the incidences of 'mum' and 'dad' are becoming more frequent, not just when he's excited."

"I've noticed that, too," he mused, "nice piece of lamb," he put the meat in the fridge, "and Julia, 'mama'."

"Well, that's only to be expected from one of her age, really," Jean filled the kettle, "first words. 'Aunty' and 'Uncle' are a bit beyond her just yet."

"Wonder how she'll cope with 'Christopher', 'Ruby' and 'Amelia'."

"Quite," Jean smiled and sliced up a banana as the child's snack. "We'll soon find out."

Together, with Julia following and 'helping', they got the upstairs ready for the family before lunch. Jean prepared a meal for the evening, that could be left to cook itself in the oven during surgery and they had a light lunch of salad and cold chicken left over from Sunday lunch before getting ready for the afternoon, and putting Julia down for a nap.

"Quite a long list, today," Lucien looked down the records Jean had put on his desk, "don't forget to pick up Ted."

"I won't but I might go by car, that way I can leave a little later and get back quicker." She smiled.

"If Julia's still asleep just leave her door open, I'll listen out for her."

Jean raised her eyebrows at this, having a toddler in surgery while his patients were being attended to...

"It'll be fine, and maybe something we should get used to, there are times it may happen," he touched her hand, "you may have to pick Ted up for some reason, or go down to town. She'll soon be able to be left to play, won't she?"

"Hm... well not for a while, but you're right, as long as you don't mind. And I see you have Agnes today, perhaps she can be persuaded to babysit," she grinned a wicked grin.

"Oh, would I like to see that?!" he roared with laughter.

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As it happened Julia woke in time for Jean to take her to pick up Ted, so she left Lucien with his patients and drove down to the school. When she got there she noticed he did not run over to her as he usually did, but waited until she approached him. He was standing with Miss Burns and it was only when she got close she could see he was holding her hand.

"Mrs Blake," Miss Burns did not smile as she usually did, "I'm afraid we have had a little bother with Ted today."

"Oh dear, what happened?"

"He got into a fight, with another boy," she was told. Ted looked down and sniffed, he'd disappointed his Aunty Jean and that was something he had hoped he would never do.

"Why?" Jean bent down to him and tiled his chin so she could look into his eyes, "Ted, it's not like you." She spoke softly with no hint of anger in her voice.

"He called me a bad name, Aunty Jean," he hiccupped through his tears, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be naughty."

"Uncle Lucien told you to walk away," she reminded him.

"I did, 'nd he called me a coward, and a scaredy cat." Tears were streaming down his face now. "So I hit him."

"I see," Jean mused, "hard?"

"Very, Mrs Blake, "in fact he knocked the other boy flat on his back."

Jean looked up and thought that, under the firm look was a hint that she might be a little impressed.

"This boy?"

"Is older than Ted," Miss Burns explained, "he's with his mother in Mr Mountfield's office, waiting."

"Right, well, we'd better go in then, hadn't we," trying to hide her smile, that Ted had knocked an older boy down with one punch was... well she shouldn't smile, not really.

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In the office Mr Mountfield sat, nodding wisely, saying he would get to the bottom of this, and, no, it was not right that boys should be fighting in the playground.

When she entered Jean saw a thin back, ramrod straight and a boy, solid and sulky, sitting next to her. Surely this wasn't the boy Ted knocked down, he was twice, three times the size of her foster son!

"Ah, Mrs Blake, do come in," he lifted his head and smiled, "Terry, let Mrs Blake sit down," he instructed the boy who dragged himself out of the seat and went to stand by his mother.

"Thank you, Mr Mountfield," Jean sat and put Julia on her lap and pulled Ted close to her side.

"Now, Ted," Mr Mountfield sighed, "what happened? I've had Terry's version, now I want to know yours."

"He called me a dirty little ba..."

"Ted!" Jean stopped him mid word, it was not a word she expected to hear from him, they never used it in his hearing, though it was probably used by boys in the playground.

"Well, he did, Aunty Jean," Ted insisted, "then when I walked away, because Uncle Lucien said it took more strength to walk away, he called me a rotten coward and a scaredy cat. Fraser heard him, he was there with me."

"I'll just see if Fraser is still around, headmaster," Miss Burns swiftly left the office and ran out into the playground. She was lucky, the fight had been the talk of the mothers, with some siding with Ted, saying Terry Carson got what he deserved and others saying it was only to be expected given Ted's background, which none of them actually knew, just surmised.

"Fraser! Fraser!" she called, "can I have a quick word?"

She asked Fraser to tell her what happened, the truth, mind, Ted was in bother and he was his friend. He looked up at his mother and she nodded, "go on, son."

He told the same story as Ted, and said if he'd been brave enough he'd have helped. Terry Carson was mean, picking on the little ones, not just Ted. Ted was the only one who fought back.

Miss Burns walked back thinking she wasn't surprised. Terry was one of those boys who didn't do well in class, had been pretty angry when he didn't get on the soccer team, because he played rough, or dirty, the coach said. He was a sore loser at games and most of the little children kept well out of his way. He had his 'gang', of course, but not all of them picked on little ones, just their own age group.

"Mr Mountfield," she smiled as she re-entered the office, "I've just spoken to Fraser and he gives the same account as Ted, and he's sorry he didn't help you out Ted, though perhaps it's best he didn't, eh?"

"Yes, Miss," Ted nodded.

"So, yet again Terry," Mr Mountfield sighed, sadly, "you pick on the little ones. Ted is much smaller than you, and while I do not condone his actions, perhaps it is what you deserve. You are a bully, young man, and you have had many chances to improve your behaviour. Well, this is your last chance." He turned to Mrs Carson, thin lipped and disappointed. This was the first time she had come face to face with one of her darling boy's victims and now she saw him for the bully he was. "Mrs Carson, you have heard me say this is your boy's last chance. We can only do so much in school, some of his behaviour has to be addressed at home. I suggest you and your husband come to some arrangement for punishments at home; here, he loses his playtimes for the week and next week he will be closely supervised by a teacher. After that, well, we'll see."

Mrs Carson and Terry sloped out of the office and she could be heard giving the boy a good telling off, accompanied by the sound of a slap. "Wait until your father hears about this."

"Well, Ted," Mr Mountfield turned to the still tearful little boy, "as I said, I don't condone what you did, but I can see you were sorely provoked."

"What does that mean, Sir," he put his hand up, as if in class.

"It means you were deliberately made angry by Terry." Mr Mountfield smiled, "But I don't want to hear of it again, young man," he tried to sound stern, "I'm sorry Mrs Blake, it would appear Ted was only defending himself, and there will be no punishment."

"Thank you, Mr Mountfield," Jean stood, "I know Ted had promised not to get into fights, but boys will be boys and I knew there would be at least one incident. School life is never all sunshine and roses, sometimes the thorns get you."

"Indeed, Mrs Blake," he held out his hand, "and may I say, rather well put."

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In the car on the way home Jean waited for Ted to speak. As far as she was concerned the incident was closed, although she would perhaps encourage him to tell Lucien.

"I'm sorry, Aunty Jean," he said quietly, "I didn't mean to be naughty."

"Ted, it's over," she pulled into the drive, "I'm sorry you were put in that position, where you had to defend yourself. I'm not cross with you, you tried to do the right thing and next time it will probably work. All you have to do is remember, being called a coward and a scaredy cat is much less painful than a bloody nose. Now, come on, milk and a biscuit, eh? I'll leave you to tell Uncle Lucien, I'm sure he will be just happy that you weren't hurt and that you did try to do the right thing."

He smiled, perhaps a little watery smile, but at least he wasn't going to get the belt or a thump, and it would seem that he was forgiven.

Lucien was just as relaxed about the incident as Jean, especially when he found out the other boy was so much bigger than Ted. He was a little bit proud, but he didn't say so.

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Pat shuffled along the dingy and smelly hallway in answer to the sharp knock on the door.

"Alright!" she spat, "keep your hair on!" She opened the door just wide enough to see Bryan standing there, file in hand and the impassive face of Senior Sergeant William Hobart behind him. "Whaddya want?"

"Pat, lovely to see you again," Bryan smiled, "like to talk to you about Ted and Julia, won't take long."

"What've the little toerags done?" she snarled, "you took 'em, your problem, mate, not mine." She made to shut the door but found it stopped by Bill pushing against it.

"Well, in that case," he continued, "you won't mind signing these papers handing them over to the state to deal with as they see fit." He stepped in, followed by Hobart, "which in this case is allow Dr and Mrs Blake to adopt them and raise them as their own."

"Why the hell would he want to do that? Bloody do-gooder." She stood in front of them, arms folded.

"Because, as you know, you are Dr Blake's half-sister," he hoped the police officer could keep that to himself, "so, as you don't seem willing to have them back, and he is their nearest relative he has requested that he and his wife be allowed to adopt them formally, instead of long term fostering. All you have to do is sign these papers and you will never have to think about the children again."

"He won't ask for money? to keep them?" she eyed them warily.

"No."

She held out her hand for the pen and scrawled her signature where he pointed. "Good riddance," she hissed, "to them and you, now, sod off!"

They stood on the doorstep and blinked in the daylight.

"Well, that's that then," Bill mused, taking his cap off and scratching his head.

"So it would seem," Bryan agreed, "er, Sergeant," he looked at Bill, "what I said, about Dr Blake and the children..."

"Didn't hear a thing, Mr Cross," Bill rolled his eyes heavenward, "not for me to know."

"Quite."

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The phone rang as Jean was strapping Julia into the high chair.

"Lucien!" she called from her position, too far away from the instrument to pick it up. The phone went quiet, she hoped he'd caught it in the study where he was talking to Ted and helping him with his maths.

"Dinner!" she called again and Ted came running closely followed by her husband, with quite a smile on his face. "Hands, Ted," she reminded him and he changed direction to go to the sink.

Ted seemed to have recovered from his unhappy experience and chatted happily about his lessons and the rest of his friends. Julia, as usual, ate with her fingers, thoroughly enjoying the feel of gravy and mashed potato on her hands. The spoon was for banging on the table, Jean just shook her head in mock despair.

"Did you catch that call, Lucien?" Jean asked, wiping food off Julia's face.

"I did indeed," he smiled, "it was Mr Cross."

Ted's face fell, surely the school hadn't told him he'd been in a fight?

"Really?"

"Yes, but I think we ought to ask Ted what he thinks, don't you?" He cleaned his plate.

Ted looked from one to the other, why would they want to know what he thought?

"Ted," Lucien turned to him and smiled, which gave him hope, "Ted, you know your mum..."

Ted nodded, thinking, 'please don't send me back there,' he crossed his fingers under the table as the thought settled in his mind.

"Well," Lucien reached over and dragged him on his chair closer to him, "she's not really able to look after you, properly." He didn't want to do her down, be unkind about her, "so, we've asked if we can adopt you and Julia..."

Jean noticed the confusion in the boy's face, "it means you would be a Blake, live with us until you are old enough to make your own way in the world... and you could call us 'mum' and 'dad' for real." she finished, softly.

"Really?" his eyes almost popped out of his head, "even though I got into a fight today?"

"Oh, Ted," she smiled, "my big boys got into many fights, I still loved them, I didn't send them away."

"Blo...er blimey!" he breathed, "I'd really be your kid? and Julia too?"

"Yes... son," Lucien ruffled his curls. "Julia too."

"But, we'd like to know what you think," Jean took his empty plate and piled it with hers and Julia's.

"All because I nicked your milk... phew!" he looked from one to the other, they didn't seem to be joking, "deal!" he held out his hand to Lucien who laughed and shook it, "deal!"

"We have to go to court, first, Ted," Jean placed a piece of his favourite apple pie in front of him, "but your mum has signed the papers and Family Welfare agree, so we are very hopeful the judge will agree too."

"If he doesn't, mum, then what?"

"We still foster you, son," she grinned "but we don't think we'll have any problem, Lucien has a clever man working on it."

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Ted was still reeling and not a little unsure when Jean took Julia for her bath. He tried the 'dad' and 'mum' thing a few times and getting no adverse reactions decided he was safe on that score, but, it was when Jean brought Julia back in to the living room and put her on the floor while she went to get her bedtime milk, that his mind was soothed.

Julia usually crawled or toddled sleepily to Lucien at this time and pulled on his trouser leg to be lifted up. This night she still crawled to him but held up her chubby little hands ..."dada?" she seemed to question.

Lucien looked down and picked her up and settled her on his knee and motioned to Ted to join her.

"I think Julia has made her mind up too, Ted," he smiled at the boy, "don't you?"

In the kitchen, Jean wiped away a tear and smiled to herself.

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A slightly shorter chapter than usual, but the best place to pause, I think. Reviews and comments welcome, as always.


	10. Chapter 10

Thank you for the lovely reviews of this alternative life for the Blake's and their friends and family. Here's another chapter, with the visit of Christopher, Ruby and Amelia.

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Jean stood on the platform rocking the stroller back and forth as Julia dozed. She had no idea if Christopher had received her letter about the children so this could be an interesting reunion, very interesting. He was bound to blame Lucien even if he had softened his attitude to her husband. The train drew in, squealing to a stop and she looked along the carriages. She couldn't see any familiar faces leaning out of the window but, knowing Christopher, he would alight first then look for her. The squealing of the train brakes had woken Julia suddenly and she had started to cry. Jean bent down to soothe her but found she would have to lift her out and give her a cuddle. She was just telling her that it was only the train and not to be frightened when a voice caught her attention.

"Hello, mum," Christopher murmured, "how are you?"

"Christopher," she smiled, "well, and you? Hello Ruby, and Amelia, oh, it's so good to see you."

He bent and kissed her cheek, "we're well too," he smiled and lifted Amelia up to greet her grandmother, "say 'hello' Amelia," he whispered, "to grandma."

Amelia, ever one for a hug, extended her arms to wrap them round Jean's neck, 'hello, gan'ma."

"Hello, my sweet girl," Jean put her free arm round the child, "my, how you've grown. Would you like to say 'hello' to Julia."

Amelia looked at the tearful baby and reached out to stroke her face, "hello."

Jean looked up and smiled at Ruby, "come on, let's go home, I expect you could do with a cuppa."

"That would be lovely, Jean," Ruby reached over for Amelia, "come on, love, grandma can't carry both of you."

Jean put Julia back in the stroller, Christopher picked up the cases and they headed out to the car.

"So," he closed the car boot, "this is Julia, then?"

Jean fastened her in the car seat and turned to smile at him, "yes, Lucien is picking Ted up from school." So it would seem he had got the letter.

They got into the car, with Ruby holding Amelia in the back, "we only got your letter about the children after we had written to you," Ruby confirmed what she thought, "how long are you fostering for?"

"We're hoping to adopt them," Jean pulled out of the parking space, "if all goes well." She let that sink in, sensing the shock from her son and his wife.

"Adopt them!?" Christopher gasped.

"We'll talk about it later, dear," she sighed, "after the children are in bed, there's too much to explain in front of, particularly, Ted."

"Right," he replied, stiffly.

'Oh dear,' thought Jean.

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Lucien was just opening the front door when she pulled onto the drive. He sent Ted in, to put his school bag down, while he went to help unload the car. He opened Jean's door and offered her his hand as she elegantly stepped out. He kissed her, searching her face for any sign of problems, but found only a loving smile.

Christopher helped his wife and child out of the car and they went round to speak to Lucien.

"Good to see you, Christopher, and Ruby," he grinned, "and Amelia, quite the little lady." They shook hands and Lucien stroked Amelia's cheek, which made her giggle.

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Cases put into the rooms, kettle on, Jean saw to the children, taking Amelia to meet Ted, introducing them over milk and biscuits.

"How was school today, Ted?" Jean asked, stroking his head, a habit she had got into.

He swallowed his biscuit, "it was good," he replied with a smile, "we did drawing and painting today."

" I did wonder," she lifted his hand to reveal a splodge of green paint up his sleeve.

"Sorry," he grinned, "Miss says it will wash out. Fraser got it all over his front." Jean rolled her eyes and went to wipe the girls down. He and Fraser seemed to be good friends, which was good, she thought, he seemed like a nice, well brought up child.

Ruby appeared in the doorway and watched as Jean chatted away to the children, cleaned off the crumbs and wiped the milk from their faces. Sensing her presence Jean looked up and smiled, "hello, Ruby, did you find everything?"

"The rooms are lovely, thank you, Jean," she moved further into the room, "Christopher is just freshening up."

"Good, well, tea in the living room, Ted," she turned to the boy, "why don't you and the girls go and play with the toys. Remember, Amelia isn't used to sharing her toys so be kind."

"Ok, mum," oh, he did like saying that, 'mum' "come on Amelia, wanna see my train set?"

Jean unclipped Julia from the high chair and placed her on the floor. She waddled over to the other children, Ruby laughed, "I remember Amelia being just as wobbly."

"She's not been walking long," Jean smiled, "that's why we put gates on the stairs. Before, she was easily contained..."

"Of course." Ruby looked at her, she looked different to what she remembered, but a good different. She'd work it out, she was sure. "Can I do anything?"

"You can take the tray to the living room, please," Jean indicated it on the table, cups, saucers, milk and sugar ready. "I'll bring the pot over."

"Right, coffee table?"

"Ah ha," Jean nodded as Lucien came back from the study. "Everything alright?" she asked.

"Yes, just wanted to put the notes away, left them out when I went to get Ted," he bent and kissed her softly.

"Right," she smiled, "come on, tea."

"Mm... could think of something else," he whispered in her ear.

"Lucien," she hissed, a wicked smile on her face, "we have guests." She made to walk away, "maybe later."

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While the children played on the floor they talked of the posting Christopher had, how Ruby and Amelia spent their days, with other mothers and children.

"We wander through the market, which is fascinating," Ruby sipped her tea, "Amelia loves looking at the colours on the clothes stalls."

"It sounds like you are enjoying yourselves," Jean smiled. Once upon a time she would have been a little envious, not having had the chance to travel, but, since her four month honeymoon travelling Europe with Lucien, she was just happy Ruby had the chance denied her, originally.

"Oh we are, Jean," Ruby smiled, "but now you've had the chance to travel... on your honeymoon. The postcards were lovely, we tracked your trip on a world map."

"It was wonderful, Ruby, thank you," Jean agreed, but declined to go into too much detail save to say it was a trip beyond her wildest dreams.

Christopher listened to his wife and mother happily chat, at last. So often at odds, even when Jean had gone to help out after Amelia's birth, but they seemed to have found a peace between them.

"Well, I need to get on with dinner," Jean stood up, "we like the children to eat with us, if that's ok with you two?" She looked at Ruby and Christopher.

"It's your home," Christopher nodded, "Amelia is often in bed when I get back, so it would be nice to have a family meal, wouldn't it, Ruby?"

"Of course, can I help, Jean?" Ruby smiled and placed her cup on the tray, "the children are occupied."

"That would be lovely, thank you," Jean recognised the offer for what it was, a chance to talk about their men without them listening. Also, perhaps Christopher could get to know Lucien better, if she and Ruby could do it...

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"It's just the vegetables that need doing, Ruby," Jean put the colander on the table and some potatoes and carrots. "Lucien turned the oven on for the roast when he left, he'd got very good at that. Next I need to teach him how to prepare it," she added in a lower voice.

Ruby giggled, "good luck with that, Christopher is always somehow otherwise occupied when that needs doing."

"Typical," Jean smiled and handed her the paring knife.

Ruby sat and started on the potatoes, "Ted seems a sweet little boy," she observed, knowing they would find out everything later.

"He is," Jean agreed, "very protective of Julia. It's Julia's birthday, tomorrow, so the children will have a little tea party instead of dinner," she looked out of the corner of her eye for a reaction, none, Ruby was waiting for her to finish, "that includes Amelia. There is also a little boy, George coming. He's Ted's friend but is happy to play with Julia too."

"That sounds lovely, Jean," she smiled, "I'll nip out in the morning and get her a little gift."

"You don't have to do that, she won't know."

"I insist, perhaps a little dress or something you think she needs," Ruby looked up, there was a light in her eyes, a sense of belonging, Jean thought.

"Well, she is getting a rag doll, stacking rings and a pull along toy from Ted and us, so I shall leave it up to you, it is very thoughtful of you."

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Dinner was a happy affair, Amelia needed cushions on a chair so she could reach and she was seated between her new friend Ted and Christopher. Ted was a little quiet at first, until Christopher remarked on his good fortune at having a train set.

"Mum and dad bought it me for my birthday," he grinned, "I can add to it, dad says, make it bigger."

"I see," Christopher nodded, "and what would you add to it?"

"Some more rails, I think, then engines and trucks," Ted tipped his head in thought, "but I'll have to be a good boy, or get a job, to pay for them."

Jean smiled at the idea that he would get a job just to buy his toys, "perhaps, sweetheart," she murmured, "you could put them on your Christmas list..."

"...put what on his Christmas list?" Matthew appeared, "sorry I'm late, smash at the lights on Sturt Street. No one hurt but hold ups."

Christopher stood up and held out his hand, "Superintendant, good to see you again."

"You too," Matthew shook his hand.

Jean stood up and took his plate off the pan where it was keeping warm, "come on, Matthew, dinner."

"Thank you, Jean," he sat down, "I'm ready for this," he started to tuck in, " so Ted," he swallowed a mouthful of roast chicken, "what needs to go on your Christmas list?"

"Er... things for the train set, Uncle Matthew," Ted didn't know what Christmas was but he'd go with the general flow of conversation. Mum would explain later.

"Right, well, you've got a while but no harm in starting early," Matthew winked and Ted grinned back.

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Jean and Ruby bathed the girls together while Christopher and Lucien washed up and Matthew read with Ted. It wasn't often he got the opportunity and he liked it. There was no chance he would have children of his own and living with the Blake's meant he got all of the fun without the work involved. When he'd said as much to Jean she had threatened to leave him with them for a weekend while she and Lucien went away, if he wasn't careful. Privately he thought that if they left it until Julia was out of nappies he could probably cope, with a little help from a particular friend; though how she would feel about that, he had no idea!

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"I usually put Julia back in the living room while I get her a drink of milk," Jean said, as she wrapped the baby in a fluffy towel, "does Amelia have a bedtime drink?"

"Sometimes, it depends if she wants one or not," Ruby dried her off, "I don't insist."

"Right," Jean lifted Julia up, "I'll just go and put this one in her night things and see you in there, then."

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Julia toddled over to Lucien and held her arms up to 'dada'. He settled her on his knee, much to the interest of Christopher, he didn't know why he should find it interesting, he just did, but the doctor looked so at ease with her playing, sleepily, with his tie it somehow seemed right. Jean passed her cup of milk over and then went to see to Ted, still happily playing with his train set.

"Time to get ready for bed now, Ted," she crouched down to him, "put the trains away please."

"Ok, mum," he smiled then yawned.

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Children in bed, Lucien poured whisky for himself and Christopher and offered Ruby a sherry as he poured Jean's customary evening drink.

"Oh, yes please," she smiled, "that would be lovely."

"So, mum," Christopher sat back in his chair, "you said, in the car, you plan to adopt the children, how come?"

"Well..." she sighed and looked at Lucien, he smiled and nodded, "it's a bit of a story..." and so she related how the milk had gone missing and they had done a bit of investigating, how they had found the two children in the shed... then how Agnes Clasby had put voice to the idea that Ted was very like Lucien at that age.

Lucien took over the story, as it was his father that had had the affair. Christopher and Ruby just sat there open mouthed, especially aghast at the story of Pat.

"So, what will happen to her?" Ruby asked, sure that they wouldn't just leave her to rot.

"We're not sure," Jean leant against Lucien's side, "we don't want to just walk off with her children, but she wants nothing to do with them or Lucien."

"I did offer to find somewhere for her to live, somewhere nicer, and see her safe, but I was met with abuse and hatred." Lucien twirled his glass round, "so at the moment I'm at an impasse, with her."

"It's really rather sad," mused Ruby, "I'm sure you'll find a way to help her, perhaps without directly being involved, somehow."

"I hope so, Ruby," Lucien sighed, "we're giving the children a chance, why not her?"

"Maybe she doesn't want one," Christopher had listened and thought, "maybe this is her way of giving the children all she can't personally, a better go at life than she had, her last, and possibly, her only, loving act."

They looked at him, open mouthed, "what do you mean, love?" Ruby gasped.

"Well," he accepted a refill of his glass, "it sounds a bit like Sandra," he turned to Ruby, "you remember." Ruby looked at him, the put her hand to her mouth in realisation of what he was thinking. She nodded.

"Sandra," he addressed the rest of the group, "Western, her name was. Married to a corporal, later sergeant. Nice couple, two kids, little lads. He was killed, training accident, bloody awful business, but I won't go into it, here. Safe to say she was left with the kiddies and not much else. She went off her head, wailing and blaming everybody; the army, him, the Lieutenant in charge, god, you name 'em, they were to blame. Trouble is the boys, they got the brunt of it, she started to drink. Not much at first, just an extra shot after dinner, she admitted it, didn't she, Rube, just to help her sleep. Well, I suppose we just accepted it, at first. She kept it together, in the first weeks, numb I guess," he sipped his whisky thoughtfully, "anyway, she went to pick the kids up from their friends one day, after school, drunk, not too drunk, but not capable of looking after the lads. The other mother, can't remember who, gave her coffee, sat her down, gave the kids their tea, put 'em to bed with hers and tried to get her to take it easy. Most of the mums tried to help her..."

"...it wasn't easy," Ruby chipped in, "we all had kiddies, of various ages, and didn't want them to see her falling apart, so we kind of took it in turns, to go round, help her with the boys, leave ours with another mother, pitched in as best we could. We tried to get her to see the doc, but she wouldn't. School got involved, reported her to the authorities, child neglect, or some such; the boys were taken off her, given to someone, bit like you two, to care for, just 'til she got herself sorted."

"I guess," Christopher resumed speaking, "that gave her the freedom to drink and, well, you get the picture. We couldn't do any more, she ended up in the loony bin, sorry doc, asylum, and the boys were adopted. She gave them up, like you say Pat did...I sure hope you can help her, to go the same route as Sandra, well..." he stared into his glass as the silence rang round the room. "...but I think Ted and Julia are in the best place. Though it was a hell of a shock when you said, in the car, mum. I thought, at first, well... sorry."

Jean smiled, "I understand, and I'm sorry if we shocked you. Poor Sandra."

"Bill and Danny are patrolling past the house, twice a day," Matthew joined the conversation, "thought it might help."

"Thanks, Matthew," Lucien smiled, "the neighbour has my number if she sees anything untoward, but it's nice to know."

"Yeah, well," he coughed, "she's family, even if she doesn't want to be." He swallowed his whisky and stood up, "think I'll go for a walk. I may be back late."

Jean and Lucien smiled and nodded their goodnight's to him, understanding what he meant. Christopher and Ruby looked perplexed, Jean thought she better explain when he'd gone, without going into too much detail.

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The click of the lock signified he had left.

"Wonder how late, tonight?" Lucien teased.

"That's enough of that, Lucien," Jean warned, "you're not his father."

"Er..." Christopher was afraid to ask. He had known Matthew for long enough, where would he go at night that would amuse the doctor and his mother.

"Matthew has a 'friend'," Jean told him, " he just likes to pop along some evenings for a chat and a nightcap."

"You mean a female friend?" he gasped, "surely not, I thought he was a confirmed bachelor."

"Things have changed round here, Christopher," Jean smiled, "and even Matthew is allowed to find that certain someone."

"Go on, then, who? Do I know her?"

"Goodness, what a gossip monger you are," Jean laughed, "what makes you think you would know her? People come and go, you know."

"Yeah, but his friends are usually yours," he drained his glass, "so... and I wouldn't want to put my foot in it, while I was here."

"As long as you don't say anything, to Matthew, that might embarrass him, or her," Jean looked at Lucien, who had that wicked twinkle in his eye when he thought of his old school friend and his new-ish colleague, "Alice Harvey, the doctor who did the tests when Jacqueline Maddern was killed."

"The one that bloke threatened to snap her neck, in the club? Phew!" He gaped, eyes wide, "she seemed a bit... er ... formidable."

Lucien guffawed at the description, "that's an interesting description." He smiled, "Alice is just right for him, they have a similar sense of humour."

"I'll take your word for it," Christopher grinned, "but I think we'd better get some sleep, been a long day. Thanks for letting us stay, mum, doc, just hope it's not too much for you." He looked directly at Jean, who reached round for a cushion to throw at him.

"Now, Christopher," Ruby touched his arm, "what is ever going to stop your mother when she has set her mind on something? Hm?" She looked at them and smiled, "goodnight, Jean, Lucien."

"Night, sleep well," they said together watching them head off up the stairs, carefully closing the gate behind them.

Lucien turned to her and took her glass out of her hand, "alone at last," he sighed.

She giggled, "our room, I think, dearest," and stood up, holding out her hand to him.

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Jean came out of the bathroom wearing her robe over her nightdress. Lucien was sitting on the bed, still partly dressed, apparently staring into space.

"Lucien," she called, softly. He didn't turn so she went closer and stood in front of him, "Lucien."

"Hm?" he looked up, "sorry, Jean," he reached for her and pulled her onto his lap, "it isn't too much, is it? You know, having them and the children and Matthew and..." she stopped him by putting her fingers over his lips, then leaning forward and lightly kissing him.

"Shh," she whispered, undoing the buttons on his shirt.

He snaked his hands round her trim waist and pulled her into a long slow kiss, she hummed and sighed before pushing him down onto the bed and sitting astride him. She continued helping him to take his shirt and singlet off while rocking gently against him.

"Jean," he groaned, "Jean, let me just..." he reached down to undo his trousers at the same time tipping his hips and rolling her onto her back on the bed. She wriggled out of her robe as he slipped his trousers off. He lay on his side facing her and running his hand under her nightdress to cup her breasts and thumb her nipples. He lifted the cotton fabric and kissed her stomach, then trailed little kisses up, pushing the garment out of the way, until she lifted her arms and he took it off her, leaving her naked and a delicious sight to behold.

"Lucien" she whispered as he moved his hands over her, and his mouth, "oh, god," she groaned, "yes, yes..."

He moved his whole body over her and made love to her, most thoroughly, until, satiated and breathless they curled together, exchanging little kisses and touches until they fell asleep.

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"You alright, Chris?" Ruby asked as he slipped into the bed beside her.

"Fine, why?"

"Just, I don't know, you seem, a little, well, unhappy about the idea of them adopting two children."

"I think I'm just a bit surprised, I didn't think they'd be thinking of having children, at their..."

"...age. Oh, Chris, what a thing to say." Ruby giggled, "why shouldn't they have children, I'm sure if your mum was still able to have one of her own she would have tried for that. Now keep your thoughts about it to yourself, they're happy, and so should you be. I think it's lovely, and just think, Amelia will have someone to play with when we visit." She wriggled against him, "now, just how tired are you?"

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Jean had put Julia's birthday presents in her place at the breakfast table so she could open them before Ted went to school. She was a little worried that Amelia would feel left out but after a quick word with Ruby she was assured Amelia had been to a couple of birthday parties and didn't seem to mind that it wasn't her turn to get presents.

The little girl needed help to unwrap her presents and cards and bounced up and down in her chair with delight as each treasure was uncovered. She hugged the rag doll, and rolled the stacking rings along the table, until Jean took them and put them in the toy pile by the train set.

Later, darling," she smiled, "first breakfast."

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Jean offered to drop Christopher and Ruby in town when she took Ted to school but they said they would look after the girls while she took him, then they would walk.

"Save the faff of getting them all in the car, Jean," Ruby smiled, "we'll wash the breakfast things for you. Unless you need to go into town?"

"No, I don't." Jean smiled, she actually agreed with Ruby but felt she had to make the offer anyway, "and thank you, it would be most helpful."

Jean, out of the house they set to clearing up while the girls played with the toys.

"See Matthew didn't make it back, last night," Christopher raised his eyebrows.

"Christopher, really," Ruby chided him, "he's a grown man. Is he supposed to stop 'that' just because he's over forty? You can be such a prude sometimes." She teased, "are you going to stop wanting me when we hit that age?"

"I doubt it," he bent and kissed her cheek, "it's just that when you think of people your parents age..."

Ruby shook her head and sighed, sometimes he was such an idiot.

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Christopher and Ruby told Amelia to be a good girl and headed off, hand in hand, to see what they could buy for Julia. It made Jean's heart glad to see them so happy, even if Christopher still didn't smile much. With Ted at school she had decided she could have the girls in the garden and living room while she quickly made a cake for Julia. They could toddle around quite safely while she got on with the jobs that needed doing before lunch.

Lucien had taken the car when Jean returned and was down at the station. Some ne'er do wells in the cells needed patching up and he would probably want to stay for any interviews. He had said he would check up with Bill and Danny about Pat, see if there was any news, then pop out and see the neighbour.

There was a kind of peace in the house, a peace that Jean liked, just her and the children. She couldn't do with it every day, but once in a while it was nice. She turned the radio up a little but not so much she couldn't hear the children and started to make a chocolate cake.

Amelia helped Julia put the stacking rings on the post then Julia took them off and put them on the other way up.

"Upsy-down!" Amelia laughed, and Julia tried to copy her.

"Ussy-dow!"

The rings could be heard clattering onto the wooden floor, 'obviously a nicer noise than on the rug,' Jean thought.

"Dis way," Amelia showed her how to put them back with the largest at the bottom.

Who knew such a simple toy could bring so much joy to two small children, Jean smiled, it brought back happy memories, though the boys usually ended up hitting each other, or throwing toys around. She wondered how long the girls would play so nicely. Still, she would give them a snack mid-morning, that would break up the game. Then, while the cake cooled she could go out and do some tidying up in the garden, they could come out with her.

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While all was harmonious in the house, Lucien was having a cuppa with Pat's neighbour.

"Yes, I have noticed the coppers," she nodded in answer to his query, "it's nice, sort of comforting."

"Has Pat?" he wondered if she had reacted to the heightened presence of the law in the area. "I would have thought, after her last visit from Sergeant Hobart and Mr Cross, she might be suspicious, even give them the rough edge of her tongue."

"A couple of times, yes," the neighbour, a Mrs Edna Colley agreed, "wanted to know what they were doing, harassing folks."

"And..."

"Sergeant Hobart just waved, and wished her 'good morning'," she smiled at the memory, "got a mouthful back. He just said, 'and to you too'. Oh, he's such a card, is Bill Hobart." she laughed, "bless him."

"How is she feeding herself, does she go out shopping?" Lucien asked, "none of the police in town have reported sightings. I'm concerned she's living on fresh air."

"Not so fresh in that house," Mrs Colley turned her nose up, "I haven't seen her go out, but that's not to say she doesn't."

"Of course, I didn't mean..."

"I know you didn't, doctor," she smiled, "but not much happens round here, we tend to know everybody's comings and goings."

"Well," he stood up, "I'd best be off, thank you for the tea."

"May I ask, doctor," she stood up to go with him to the door, "what is your interest in Pat, surely you have better things to do?"

"Her family were friends of my father's, long gone now," he hastily fashioned an excuse, "I can't just ignore her. And I am a doctor."

"Of course."

He drove slowly home, thinking, trying to come up with a way to help Pat. He felt his father should have tried harder to find her mother, find out why she left, if he really didn't know about the baby.

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Ruby helped Jean by getting the tea ready for the children while Christopher kept Amelia occupied during surgery. Julia was put down for her usual nap and Jean flitted between the kitchen and the waiting room.

"Can you mind Julia?" Jean asked, reaching for her coat and keys, "I'll just nip down and pick up Ted from school, she's still asleep so..."

"Of course," Ruby smiled, "we'll be fine." She watched her go, amazed at how unflustered she looked, in spite of Christopher's misgivings about her raising two children 'at her age'.

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George and his mother arrived, delighted to be invited to a birthday tea, again. George, according to his mother, had insisted he help choose Julia's gift and he shyly handed over a small, soft gift. Jean helped Julia unwrap the parcel; a small, fluffy toy dog, perfect for cuddling at night.

"Oh, George," Jean smiled, "how lovely, Julia," she turned to the little girl, "what do you say?"

"Ta," Julia smiled and hugged the toy, then George.

Mrs Porter was introduced to Ruby and, while the children, including Christopher and, after surgery, Lucien, played with the toys, the ladies put the tea things out. Ruby and Mrs Porter got on well, being of a similar age, both remarking they didn't know how Jean did it, everything in the house and the surgery.

"I suppose it's because she always has done." Ruby passed the plates to her, "my husband says he has never known her put her feet up just for the hell of it."

"It's such a shame," Mrs Porter whispered, "that the church dispensed with her services, when she married the doctor, the flowers are never as nice as they used to be."

"The church's loss is the children's gain, I suppose." Ruby smiled, she didn't really want to be drawn on that, she had felt it wrong that the one place she should have been able to turn turned away from her.

"Quite."

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Getting Julia to blow out her candle caused much laughter. She couldn't quite get the hang of blowing without spitting, Jean tested her before putting the cake in front of her, so she had a little help from her brother who stood next to her and blew it for her.

George had saved room for cake, this time, so by the end of tea there was just enough for Matthew and Alice, as a thank you for the lovely picture book they had given the birthday girl. Matthew had admitted they had no idea what to buy a one year old, but Alice reckoned that books, if looked after, would last a lifetime. Jean agreed, her boys had kept theirs until they literally fell apart. Ruby and Christopher had also chosen books, but a good selection of rag books that she could play with and not spoil.

"And given how messy she is, they will wash," Jean had laughed and thanked them.

By the time the adults had eaten their slightly delayed dinner the children were ready for bed. George had left shortly after cake, thanking Mrs Blake for a lovely tea again. Julia barely made it through bath-time and Jean took her through just for a goodnight kiss from Lucien.

"Worn out?" he kissed her cheek.

"Absolutely," Jean smiled and carried her to the bedroom. She was asleep before Jean tucked her in and kissed her forehead.

"Sweet dreams, little one," she whispered.

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Matthew had made his excuses and taken the pieces of cake to Alice. Jean remarked to Lucien she felt he would move out in the not too distant future.

"Do you think so," he held her close in bed, "I thought he was happy here."

"I think he's in two minds," she tipped her head and smiled, "he wants to be with Alice, but he also likes spending time with Ted and Julia."

"Well," Lucien thought, "even if he did move in with her, not that she's the marrying kind," Jean looked at him in shock, "sorry, do you think she is?"

"Depends who asks her, I suppose," Jean agreed. "Whoever it was would have to let her keep her independence, not expect her to stay at home and mend his shirts."

"I think that's why they seem such a good match," he sighed, "anyway, as I was saying, if he did move in with her, he would still be able to see the children. You're not going to stop him just because he's living in sin, are you?"

"Heavens, no!" she gasped, "that would be cruel, to the children as well as him. We shall just have to see, shan't we? Now, enough of Matthew's love life, what about ours?" she wriggled enticingly against him.


	11. Chapter 11

"Thank you, Jean," Ruby hugged her mother in law, "it's been really lovely to see you and Lucien, and meet the children."

"I'm so glad you decided to visit," Jean grinned, "I do hope you will come again. I know it's not easy, the distance an' all, but if you do ever want to come, we will be more than happy to have you."

"We'd love to, mum," Christopher leaned over and kissed her cheek, "I hope all goes well with the adoption, I can see how happy it makes all of you."

"Thank you, Christopher," she squeezed his arm, "I'm sorry Lucien had to run off this morning..."

"That's all right, he got a call, isn't that what he's supposed to do?" he laughed.

"It is, and I'm used to it," she laughed with him, then turned to Amelia, "well, my darling Amelia, you be a good girl for mummy and daddy, eh," she hugged the little girl, "and come and see us again, sometime, before you get too big."

Amelia hugged her grandmother and planted a sloppy kiss on her cheek before her mother took her and they boarded the train.

Jean stood, with Julia on her hip, and waved as the train drew out, smiling. She turned and headed out of the station, "come on, Julia, we need to fill the cupboards back up," she settled her into the car, "let's see what we can get."

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Jean parked the car and strapped Julia into the stroller. There was something odd about town that morning, but what, she couldn't put her finger on. People were going about their business as usual, little groups of mothers were chatting, nothing out of the ordinary. She looked up at the Town Hall clock; nine-forty five, just past. She looked at her watch, nine-fifteen. Strange, it was never wrong, and her watch was right. Christopher had caught the nine o'clock train, and it didn't take that long to get into town, from the station. An ambulance passed her, coming from the direction of the Town Hall. Was that why Lucien had been called out that morning? Well, there was nothing she could do about it so she shrugged her shoulders and headed into the green grocers.

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Two hours earlier:

"So, what've we got, Bill," Lucien and Matthew got into the police car, "and thanks for driving. Jean needs the car to take the family to the station."

"No worries, doc, boss," Bill turned out of the drive and headed into town. "Somebody noticed the clock was wrong and went into the tower to check. Seems there's a body stopping the movement."

"Bloody hell," Matthew grunted. "Suppose that gives us time of death, then?"

"Yeah, guess so," Bill agreed and Lucien nodded, "nine-forty five, last night."

"Unless the body was moved and it's a red herring," the doctor observed, Matthew rolled his eyes.

Lucien shrugged, it was worth considering, he thought.

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They stood looking at a body, the lower half sticking out of the clock movement, the upper half crushed between the giant cogs still trying to move round with an eerie, monotonous click, click, click, rocking into the inert form lying there. Lucien walked round the site, sometimes squatting to get a better look through the mechanism. The head appeared to be unaffected, so it would probably be the crushing of the chest that caused death. He'd know better when he got the body to the morgue, and he would also be able to check the whole of the head. There was a chance he had been knocked out before his body was thrown into the workings of the clock.

"We've sent for the maintenance crew," Danny told them, "to stop the clock, maybe wind it back, to get the body out?"

"Good, ambos?" Matthew asked.

"Them too," Danny nodded, "they're waiting round the back, out of sight."

"Doc?"

"Well, Superintendant," Blake shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, "looks like he was crushed with the cogs, but, until I get him into the morgue, I won't be sure. Nasty way to go." he mused.

"Mmm..." Lawson agreed.

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It took some doing, stopping and holding the cogs out of the way while Lucien and the ambos extricated the body and lowered him onto the stretcher.

They left his face uncovered and asked the crew if they knew who he was.

"Yeah," one of them scratched his head, "Joe Billings, used to work here, on the clock, sacked last month."

"Oh, really, why?" Matthew nodded to Danny to take down anything that was said.

"Dunno," the man, who gave his name as Stanley Bell, shrugged, "just know he got the boot, he was good at his job so..."

"Who does the hiring and firing round here, for maintenance?" Danny noted this information in his notebook.

"Ken Williams, does all the building services," Bell nodded, "maintenance crews answer to him, he hands out the work sheets, orders in anything we need..."

"Pay..."

"Yep, that too," Bell agreed, "though it goes to accounts first."

"Thanks, that will be all for now," Matthew leant on his stick, "if we need to speak to you again..."

"I'll be here," Bell grinned, "just ask at Reception, they usually know where we are."

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Alice and Lucien stood side by side in the morgue considering the corpse on the table. The white sheet was folded down exposing his chest and abdomen and the marks, deep punctures from the cogs on the left side of his body, just below his collar bones, continuing in regular intervals down to the level of his waist.

"My guess is," Alice mused, "punctured lung and heart."

"Mm... you could be right," he hummed, "any defensive wounds?" He leant forward and picked up the left hand. "Bruise on the forearm, blocking move, perhaps. Nothing on the knuckles." He moved up to the face and tipped it to better look at the jaw. "Hm... see here," he pointed to a bruise just under the chin, but on the right hand side of the jaw line. Alice peered at it.

"Knockout blow?" she queried.

"Could be," he nodded and moved round to check the right hand, "no knuckle damage here."

"Not a fighter then," Alice suggested, "or caught off guard."

"He did block, with his forearm," Lucien reminded her, "but if his attacker was left-handed, that would explain the mark on the jaw." He mimicked the move.

"Enough of a blow to know him out?"

"I doubt it," he started to examine the scalp. Billings had thick hair but it hadn't stopped the cogs scraping the scalp, "this could have, though. Hitting his head on the mechanism."

"Right," Alice noted that down on the forms, along with their preliminary findings. "So, shall we have a look inside?" She turned to pick up the tray of instruments, "Matthew will be down to see why we haven't sent a written report up, and so far..."

Lucien grinned, once upon a time it was 'Superintendant Lawson' at work, but now she used his given name more frequently.

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They had just finished and Lucien was closing the body when Matthew entered the morgue.

"Wondered if you two had come to a conclusion, yet," he grumbled.

"Ribs crushed, punctured lung and heart. Cardiac cavity full of blood," Alice recited the findings, "some external bruising consistent with a short fist fight, there may be more by tomorrow. Died at the site..."

"Bugger," he hissed, "now what? The only person he had any grief with was Williams, everybody else said he was good at his job and were nonplussed as to why he had been sacked."

"Have you questioned Williams?" Lucien threw his gloves into the bin, "found out why he was sacked."

"Can't find him," the superintendant huffed, "seems he didn't turn up for work today. I've sent Bill and Danny to his address."

"If Billings was sacked last month what was he doing up in the clock tower?" Alice passed the clip board to Lucien to sign.

"No idea," Matthew shrugged, "seems an odd place to meet for a fight, or anything really."

"Perhaps it was a lover's tryst," Lucien suggested.

Matthew grimaced, "bloody hell, Blake, did you have to, put me off my lunch."

"...or he was lured there thinking it was his lover he was meeting." Alice smiled, "though, again, an odd place to meet for a lover's rendezvous."

"Nobody would see them," Lucien added.

"True," Alice smiled, "well, he can be released for burial, if you have found his family, unless, as Lucien says, any further bruising shows."

"He has a daughter, Bendigo are informing her," Matthew said, "we'll bring her down to identify him when she arrives."

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Jean looked up from helping Julia eat her lunch and smiled as Lucien went round the table to kiss her.

"Alright?" she murmured.

"Body, in the clock mechanism," he reached round and pinched a piece of Julia's apple.

"Dada! Mine!"

Lucien grinned and kissed the top of her curls.

"Oh, I noticed it had stopped," she wiped the vegetables off Julia's face, "it seemed really strange, I've never known it not tell the right time."

"Mmm...well, now we have to find out why and who," he turned and set the kettle to boil. "Tea?"

"Lovely," she put the bowl of chopped apple and pear in front of the baby and let her pick the bits she wanted.

"Who was it?" Jean asked, watching him, "the body."

"Joe Billings," he turned and leant against the counter, folding his arms, "used to see to the maintenance of the clock, sacked last month."

"Don't know the name," Jean sighed, "when I was young it was an Albert Jackson who looked after the clock."

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Surgery, collecting Ted and dinner took up the remainder of Jean's day, so it wasn't until the children were in bed that they could talk about the case. Lucien had persuaded Alice to join them for dinner,

"...Jean insists," he had said, over the phone, "it's ages since you ate with us, and I'm sure Matthew will have more to tell us about the case, once the kids are in bed."

Alice had agreed, it _had_ been some time since she had eaten one of Jean's meals, and she was missing it. It wasn't that she hadn't been invited, she had an open invitation, she just had struggled a little with the happy family scenes. It was an alien world to her, even if she had attended more than the first football match, family life, for her, had never been this much fun. She was happy just to be on the outskirts, seeing Matthew most evenings, quite a few of which he somehow never made it 'home' again. And she liked that, not being tied to him, yet being more committed to a relationship with him than she had ever been with other men.

Over the weeks Ted had become quite brave and had finally broken and called her 'Aunty Alice'. There had been a stunned silence, during which he thought he was going to be told off for being too familiar. She had recovered her composure, quickly, turned to him and answered his question, politely, and; that was that; she was now Aunty Alice.

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"So, Matthew," Lucien passed him and Alice a whisky, "did you find Billings' daughter?"

"No, she wasn't at home, the neighbours said she hadn't been seen all morning," he huffed, "it gets odder every minute."

"You don't suppose Williams and her were in it together, do you?" Jean asked, looking for a reaction.

"Well, if they aren't, they're doing nothing to dispel that myth," Lucien noted, "and if they are, it would be better to sit tight, identify the body, first, certainly not disappear at the same time."

"Presumed innocence," Alice muttered, "yes, I suppose so." She turned to Matthew, "is there a connection between Williams and the daughter?"

"Not as far as we know, but we haven't looked too deeply into that, yet, because we didn't know she had run off." He swallowed a mouthful of his drink, "I've left Bill looking into that and we've got the Bendigo force making inquiries."

"Anything in the paperwork?"

"Danny's going through the accounts for the maintenance on the clock, receipts for parts, that sort of thing," he sighed, "until we've ruled out any financial wrongdoings, we're stuck for a reason."

"There is always the chance his death was an accident, they didn't mean to kill him," Jean pointed out, "not every death has to be murder. Could be death by misadventure."

"Alright, Detective Blake," Lucien grinned, "you could have a point, but, it was the constant moving of the cogs that killed him. If they'd pulled him off as soon as he fell he may have stood a chance. So, by leaving him there, it became murder."

Jean stuck her tongue out at him, "just a thought."

"And one well worth considering," Matthew nodded, "but Lucien is right, Jean, sadly."

"If Williams and the daughter are involved, perhaps it is a father's protection of his daughter," Alice mused, looking into her glass, "she could be romantically involved with Williams, but her father disapproves, they meet to argue about the situation or to persuade him to acquiesce, it all goes horribly wrong, Billings falls, after a fight, they panic and run..."

They all turned and looked at her, Alice wasn't one for coming up with long theories, she usually stuck to the scientific evidence, unless Blake was out of town and she was acting Police Surgeon...

"You've been round me too long," Lucien laughed, "but it is a very plausible theory."

"But why meet in the clock tower?" Jean asked, "why not a pub, or cafe?"

"Dunno," Matthew shrugged, "maybe Williams hinted he was going to give him his job back, or there was a problem with the clock and he needed his help."

"But if he'd fired him..." she passed back, "I'd think long and hard about helping someone who had sacked me, like that, for no apparent reason."

Lucien gulped, glad she was now his wife and not his housekeeper.

"Maybe Billings was bribing him to keep quiet about some financial misdeeds," he leant forward, "but we'll have to see what Danny turns up in the paperwork."

"Quite," Alice swallowed the last of her whisky, "and on that note, I'd better be going," she stood up. "Thank you for dinner, Jean," she smiled.

"I'll walk you home, doctor," Matthew stood and grabbed his stick, "you don't know who's roaming about at this time of night."

Jean covered her smirk with her hand, Lucien openly grinned.

"Indeed, Superintendant," Alice kept her face perfectly straight, "thank you."

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Lucien closed the door and looked at Jean, standing there, now giggling.

"Well, at least we know who's roaming about," she recovered a little.

"Yes, a randy old Superintendant," Lucien roared.

"Lucien! Really!" she batted his upper arm.

"Who says you're safe inside," he winked, "from a randy old doctor."

She looked him up and down, pausing at the unmistakable bulge in his trousers, and wondered if they would make it back to their bedroom.

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It was one of their more frantic couplings, with clothes being shed as they closed the bedroom door and them tumbling, laughing onto the bed, kissing and touching, hands everywhere.

Lucien slipped his hands between her legs and over her folds, finding her ready for him, she panted and pleaded until he entered her and they began a desperate rhythm culminating in a heady release before they fell together breathing heavily and he held her tight.

She shivered in the cool of the night, he pulled the covers over them and kissed her softly. "My beautiful wife," he whispered.

She hummed, half asleep and snuggled closer, sighing with contentment.

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Danny could find nothing untoward in the accounts, all parts ordered were signed for, by Billings, before his sacking, and now by a Sam Wood, who had also disappeared. They were left scratching their heads.

Down in the morgue, no further bruising had appeared on the body so Alice and Lucien's findings remained as cause of death.

Matthew and Bill went back to speak to the maintenance crew, to find out what they knew about Wood.

"To be honest," Bell leant against a bench where he was repairing a lamp, "we know nothing about him. Williams introduced him as the new man, but that was all. He didn't join us on breaks or have a beer at the end of the week. We hardly saw him."

"Bloody hell!" Matthew grunted as they headed out of the building. "Perhaps we'd better have a closer look at where the body was found."

"Want me to get Parks?" Bill pulled the car out of the space and turned in the direction of the station.

"No," the Superintendant thought for a moment, "no, take the doc."

Bill looked at him, "Blake?"

"Yeah, don't know why, except to stop him putting forward daft theories," Matthew nodded, "but I have a feeling..."

Bill shook his head and continued driving.

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Bill was impressed with the doc's methodical search of the clock mechanism and the tower. First they looked for footmarks, in the dust on the floor, oily fingerprints on the large cogs and springs,

"Probably Billings'" Lucien observed.

"I'll lift a few, anyway," Bill noted.

"Great view," Lucien stood watching the comings and goings around Ballarat. He looked down at the floor and noticed he was standing in a clean square. "Bill," he called, "what d'you think this is?"

"Something was placed there," his companion suggested, "but something soft."

"Why so?"

"No hard edges, so, I dunno, a cushion?" he hazarded a guess.

"That's an idea," the doctor agreed, "somewhere to sit and watch the world go by. Harmless."

"Unless he saw something he shouldn't have" Bill muttered.

"Only if he had binoculars," Lucien squatted over the spot, "good view of the Commonwealth Bank."

"Interesting," Bill mused.

"We need to find Williams and Miss Billings," Lucien stood up and headed to the stairs, "they are the key, I'm sure."

"So, back to the station?"

"No more here, but I'd like another word with Stanley Bell," Blake preceded him down to the car.

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Bendigo station had called and were on their way with Williams and Miss Billings, who had been spotted buying one way tickets to Melbourne at the station, by a vigilant young copper.

"Apparently," Matthew brought them up to date, "she is devastated by the death of her father, him not so bothered."

"I had another word with Stanley Bell," Lucien followed with the story of the 'cushion' mark in the tower. "He said Joe didn't spend any length of time in the tower, unless he was working on it, but he had come down one day angry about something. Bell had tried to calm him down, find out what had upset him, but they were interrupted by Williams and a woman, who seemed to have come down from the same place. The woman was obviously embarrassed but Williams had a pleased look on his face and was adjusting his trousers. Bell said he had a pretty good idea what they'd been up to."

"Got it. Can you bring Bell in," Matthew asked, "see if he recognises the woman as Miss Billings?"

"Right oh," Bill smiled and headed back out to fetch Bell.

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Miss Billings; Marion; was escorted to the morgue to identify her father before being taken to an interview room.

She denied any knowledge about her father's death, but admitted she and Williams had been having intercourse when her father went up into the tower. Confirming Bell's story.

"He came over to the house that evening," she sniffed, "told me I wasn't to have anything to do with Ken, called him some names. That was shortly before he was sacked. I think Ken sacked him for allowing visitors up to see the mechanism, which he wasn't doing, dad wouldn't do that, but it was the only thing Ken could think of."

"So, why did Ken spend so much time up there, apart from what you two were doing, that is?" Matthew tapped his pen on the desk.

"He said he liked the view," she stated, simply.

"It is a good view... of the bank," Lucien smiled.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she snapped, "you can see all over town from there."

"True," he agreed, "but it's an especially good view of the bank. Of people coming and going, of the cash entering and leaving. I'm sure if we were to speak to the manager he would confirm there were certain times when there were large amounts of money being transported to and from businesses. When deposits were made."

Matthew looked at him then realised Lucien would know, he ran a business and even he knew when Jean put money into the account, because he'd done it for her one day. Takings would be deposited into business accounts at the end of the working day, so, to know who was in the bank at any one time, when the manager locked up, would be key information, if you were considering making a withdrawal... after hours.

She was escorted to a cell and they waited for Williams to be brought to them.

"I don't think she knows what he was doing, not in the full sense of the word. He could just have suggested it as an out of the way place for a little ..." Lucien raised his eyebrows, after all, if hospital staff used the morgue for such goings on... why not the clock tower of the Town Hall?

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While Williams was in the cell, Danny and a female constable had a look through the suitcases that had come with the two suspects. The female constable was asked to look in Marion's case while Danny looked in Williams'.

"Nothing unusual, Sarge," the constable closed the case, "just clothes and makeup, nothing I wouldn't take if I were going away."

"This is much more interesting," Danny held up a pair of binoculars and a notebook. The notebook had times with corresponding activity written in it, some of the times were underlined with words like, 'not now', or 'good time', against them. These times were late in the day, but the 'good' times were early evening, with after the pubs were closed heavily underlined and 'best time' written next to it. "I don't think he's referring to having his girl then." He smirked. The constable raised her eyebrows, and he apologised for being inappropriate.

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"Thank you, Sergeant," Jean sighed into the phone, "if you could remind the doctor that surgery starts in fifteen minutes, I'd be grateful."

Everything was ready, Julia was down for a short nap, they were getting shorter now, though she was very tired at bedtime. But, as Jean had remarked, she was growing and maybe she would not need a nap for much longer, not every day.

"I think Li was still napping at two," Lucien had closed his eyes in thought, as they discussed the potential disruption to surgeries, "but she was an early riser."

Jean also had some news he would be interested in, a letter had come from the lawyer, about the adoption. He wanted to see them in his office in two days time. This meant a trip to Melbourne. They could take Julia but Ted would be in school and she wondered if she should ask Mrs Wilson if he could go home with Fraser that day, just in case they were late back. Otherwise he would miss a day's schooling and he was coming on so well she didn't think it was a good idea.

Lucien arrived with the patients, apologising profusely to his wife and the queue at the door. She smiled, accepted the kiss to the cheek and escorted the patients into the waiting room, while he went to wash and get ready in his consulting room.

Jean, and, when she woke, Julia, escorted patients out, accepting the compliments about the little girl, how sweet she was and so well behaved.

"She has her moments," Jean smiled, thinking of that morning when she had decided that under no circumstances was she going to sit still while her socks were put onto her little feet. The word 'no' had been shouted several times, by Julia, until Jean had fetched the little soft dog from her cot and she had settled down. That little toy went everywhere with her, Jean was so glad it would wash, the number of times she 'fed' it her dinner!

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"So," Lucien sighed, "although Matthew can't charge them with attempted robbery, Williams did murder Joe Billings. They fought over his liaison with Marion, in the tower. Williams was checking the comings and goings of the bank, though he didn't quite admit that, and Joe caught him. It was a shouting match until Williams hit him and he fell onto the cogs of the clock. I think he realised that Joe knew too much and he left his unconscious body there, to let the clock finish the job."

He had waited for Jean to put the children to bed before he updated her on the case. Matthew had taken Alice out to dinner, for a change, and was unlikely to be seen until tomorrow.

"You know," Jean stopped knitting for a moment, "if he'd lifted the body off the cogs, no one would have known for ages, if ever. What about the man that he brought in to see to the clock?"

"Indeed my dear. Wood got a dose of flu, taking some sick leave. Nothing to worry about there, " he smiled, "now, you said the lawyer had written?"

"Yes, he wants us to go and see him, next week, if we can't make it this week." Jean passed him the letter, "it's just to go over the finer details. Mr Merchant has passed his feelings to the family court."

"What about Ted?" Lucien ran his eyes over the letter, "he'll be in school."

"I wondered about asking Mrs Wilson to collect him for us, or..." she grinned, "we could ask Matthew."

Lucien threw back his head and roared with laughter, "I like that idea, let's ask him first."

"Alright," she leant over and kissed him, "he did say he had all the fun without the hard work, I said we'd leave them with him for a weekend if he wasn't careful."

"Time to call his bluff," he pulled her into a long, deep kiss.

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The train journey, with a toddler, was a lot easier than it would have been in the car. At least Julia could wobble her way around the compartment and climb up Lucien's legs while they sat watching the Victorian countryside go by.

"Do you think we should bring Ted to court, with us?" Jean pulled Julia onto her lap.

"We'll ask the lawyer, but it's quite an important part of his life, so really, I think he should be with us."

"My feelings too," she smiled, "I'm sure that day off school won't harm him."

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The lawyer smiled at the threesome in front of him. The way the two adults were with the little girl cheered him, they only had love for her, and he assumed it was the same with the boy, who he hoped to meet one day.

"I have read all the notes," he smiled, "Family welfare seem quite happy about the idea, and the family connection is good, in this case. I can't see there being any problem, and the date is set, two weeks from now."

"That soon?" Jean was surprised, "goodness."

"Is there a problem?"

"No, of course not," she smiled her most disarming smile, "I thought it would take so much longer."

"There are no obstacles," he steepled his fingers, "it should be quite straightforward."

"Having been told we were too old to adopt," Lucien reached for Jean's hand, "we thought it would take longer, even though I am their uncle; well, half uncle."

"It's the fact you are a blood relative that makes it so much swifter," the lawyer smiled, "and their mother has signed the papers."

"I wish we could do something for her," Jean sighed, "but she seems to hate Lucien and wants nothing to do with him."

"Hm, well, I don't know how we get over that hurdle," he agreed, "but if you do come up with an idea, I'll be happy to lend my support."

"Thank you," Lucien stood up, "well, I think Julia is getting restless," Jean nodded her agreement, "she's hungry."

"I'll send you confirmation of the court date," the lawyer stood up, "and we'll see you then."

"It is alright to bring Ted, isn't it?" Jean asked, "only we think it is important for him to be there."

"Absolutely, I agree. You have spoken to him about what it means, haven't you?"

"Oh yes, he's calling us mum and dad all the time now, not just when he's excited, though we haven't told him he's Lucien's half nephew. We think that would confuse him." Jean stood and smiled. "We'll tell him when he's old enough to understand."

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Superintendant Lawson stood waiting with the other parents having agreed he would collect Ted from school. Alice waited in the car, she was not going to stand there, being stared at by the mothers and whispered about. Matthew smiled, but could see why she didn't want to face that. He, on the other hand, was quite happy to stand there, in his uniform, while they all looked round to see who he was about to arrest.

Ted grinned and ran up to him, some of his friends hadn't believed that a Police Superintendant was collecting him from school, and not because he'd been naughty. When Matthew held out his hand and Ted greeted him with a,

"hello, Uncle Matthew,"

his playground credit rating went up in some quarters.

"Aunty Alice is waiting in the car," Matthew informed him.

"Ok."

Matthew had told Alice she wasn't to drop them off and run away,

"I do not run away, Superintendant," she had huffed.

"When it comes to children, you do," he'd kissed her cheek, "Ted will think you don't like him."

"Alright," she sighed, "I'll stay for a cuppa."

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She sat on the couch, drinking her tea and watching Matthew help Ted with his homework and listen to him read at the table. She had to admit it was a sweet sight but couldn't remember either of her parents being so considerate to her. She supposed he had watched Lucien and Jean do this and had taken note. He was encouraging, didn't immediately give the answers but helped him work out the problem, be it mathematical or reading.

"Right, young man," Matthew closed the book, "you've done a fair job on that tonight, I think you've earned your time with the train set."

"Thank you, Uncle Matthew," Ted collected his things and slipped off his chair, heading into the living room.

"He reads well, for one so young," Alice appeared at his shoulder and slipped her arm across his lower back, "I don't remember anyone having the patience to listen to me, except the teachers."

He turned and gave her a swift kiss on the lips, "it was my mother, that listened to me," he smiled, "but, some parents prefer to leave that side of things to the professionals. Now," he gave her a quick hug, "I'm going to make dinner, you want to help?"

"Al right, I suppose Jean has asked you..?"

"If they weren't back, she said there was the makings of a chicken dish of my choosing in the fridge. So..." he opened the door, "let's see," he passed out a ready jointed chicken and the lard, "that should do it, with an onion, carrots, spuds and stock, and..." he grabbed a handful of mushrooms.

"What would you like me to do?" Alice looked at the ingredients.

"Here," he took the paring knife out of the drawer, "peel the veg, please, while I start the chook."

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From his position in the living room, Ted could just see them, pausing every now and then for a quick kiss, it was as bad as watching mum and dad, but it gave him a nice warm feeling inside. He could smell the chicken start to colour on the stove, then the onions, with their particular smell, and hear the sound of frying and scraping of pans, and finally the sizzle of the stock being poured into the hot baking tray. He heard Matthew slam the oven door closed and the washing up start. He went back to his train set.

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The sound of the door brought Ted to the hall; grinning he ran up to greet Jean and Lucien with a hug.

"Hello, Ted," Lucien swung him up, "see Uncle Matthew didn't forget you."

"He's in the kitchen with Aunty Alice, hullo, dad, mum," he grinned.

"Hello, Ted, darling," Jean put Julia on the floor and watched her toddle down to the kitchen, "something smells good."

"Uncle Matthew's cooking," he told her.

He wasn't sure why they had had to go to Melbourne, just that it was something to do with him and Julia becoming Blakes.

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Matthew had made a good job of dinner, it was tasty and ready in time for the children to join them. Jean thanked him and remarked he might get the job in the future.

"I'll have to see if my sous chef is available," he grinned, looking at Alice.

"As long as you only ask me to peel the veggies," she smiled, "I might be persuaded."

Ted thought about suggesting extra kisses, but then thought better of it. Although mum and dad kissed when they knew he was there, Matthew and Alice didn't, and it had taken quite some time for her to relax around him and Julia.

"Well, we're just waiting for a court date," Lucien cleaned his plate, "but we'll take you, Ted, next time."

"Really?" he gasped, "but what about school?"

"I think school will be fine, sweetheart," Jean smiled, "we think it's only right you should be there when your future is decided."

"Oh, yes," he tipped his head, a characteristic he had picked up from Jean, "I think I'd like that."

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They didn't have to wait too long for the date, but it was first thing in the morning, ten o'clock.

"The best train is seven thirty," Jean sighed, "and while you and I can probably catch that one, with the children we'll have to be up very early."

"How about staying overnight?" Lucien read down the letter again. "If we can find a hotel with a small suite or family room we'd all be the fresher for a good night's sleep and easy morning."

"I suppose so, still by train?" she looked at him, "it's a long journey for the children in the car."

"Quite, shall I ring round the hotels, or do you want to do it?" He though she would ask the right questions. "Try The Windsor."

She raised her eyebrows at this, he shrugged his shoulders, smiled, and left her to it.

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After much perusing of the hotels available in Melbourne, Jean found one that would suit their needs, and not too far from the Court House. She booked a double room for herself and Lucien and next to it was a room that would sleep the children, with a single bed and a cot. She was assured it used to be a master bedroom and dressing room that they had converted, and they would be only too happy to accommodate Mrs Blake and her family for the night.

"I'm afraid you're a bit of an experiment, Mrs Blake," the proprietor informed her, "we have noticed more families wanting hotel accommodation and thought we would try to make it a feature, especially with small children."

"Oh," Jean was a little surprised at her candour, "well..."

"We can supply a high chair, if you need it," the bright, and hopeful, voice at the other end of the line said.

"Lovely, that would help, my daughter," well she hoped Julia would be her daughter at the end of the visit, " is only just over a year old."

Jean hoped she had booked the right kind of place, all the other hotels had seemed a little 'sniffy' when she explained they would be bringing two young children with them.

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"It's only for one night, Jean," Lucien reassured her, "we'll manage, and if they're trying to make a business out of it perhaps..."

"You're right," she smiled, "it'll be fine."

And it was, they couldn't have been made more welcome. The owners were quite young, friendly and helpful. The rooms were bright and welcoming, a connecting door between the main room and the side room was left open and they could see a single bed with bright and fresh covers on it and the cot similarly so. An alcove in the main bedroom had been converted into a small bathroom, it was all just right, Jean thought.

"Are we really staying here, mum?" Ted looked round both rooms.

"Yes, dear," Jean passed him his pyjamas, "for tonight. Put these on your bed, please."

"Ok," he did as he was told, then sat on the bed to test it for bounce.

Jean finished unpacking and suggested they see if they could have an early dinner, the children would be hungry.

"Right, then perhaps a little stroll until bedtime?"

"I think that's a good idea," she agreed, "they've been cooped up in the train for too long, they'll sleep better after some fresh air."

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The only one who didn't sleep particularly well was Lucien. He was worried how it would affect Jean, and the children, if the judge denied the adoption. Jean, he knew, would be heartbroken, Ted would be confused, frightened he would be sent away, Julia would not understand anyway. He dozed fitfully all night, trying not to disturb Jean, curled up against his side. She had told him she had full confidence it was only a box ticking exercise and refused to believe anyone could be that heartless. Lucien had no doubt that if the judgement went against them she would give him a piece of her mind, but the tears would flow as well.

Keeping busy with seeing that the children were washed, dressed and ate a good breakfast left Jean no time to think about what could happen, but she could see Lucien was thinking too hard.

She dressed Julia in a pretty green checked dress, white cardigan and white tights and passed her to him while she saw to Ted's tie, and made sure he was neat and pressed.

"Everything will be fine," she kissed his cheek, "have faith."

"If I think the worst then I might be pleasantly surprised," he gave a little smile, and Jean noticed him hold Julia a little closer.

"Right, Ted," she set his tie straight, brushed his hair and adjusted his jacket, "go and sit with dad while I finish my makeup," she ushered him to Lucien.

"You look very smart, son," he smiled, "very grown up."

"Thanks, dad," Ted grinned, "mum said I had to be extra smart today."

"Did she now?" he looked up as she was checking her hair and makeup was as it should be. She smiled at him through her reflection in the mirror.

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Ted looked up and around in awe at the building, he'd never seen anything so grand. He held Lucien's hand tight as they were greeted by an usher and taken to a side room to wait to be called.

Oliver Merchant and Bryan were also there, with Lucien's lawyer, quite relaxed as they chatted about the case.

"Lucien," the lawyer held out his hand and grinned, "lovely to see you."

"Good morning, Ben," he smiled back, "you look well."

"Thank you." he looked at the group, smiled a Jean, who he had met briefly after the divorce, "so, these are the children."

"Ted and Julia," Lucien nodded.

Ben offered his hand to Ted who shook it as he had seen other adults do. "Nice to meet you, young man," he smiled.

Ted just smiled.

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Julia sat on Jean's knee playing with her toy while the case was gone through. Ted sat between them and Lucien trying to understand all that was going on. When they talked about his life before he took his little sister and ran away he hitched a little closer to Jean, who put her arm round him and gave a little hug. The judge noticed this, out of the corner of his eye and smiled to himself. In spite of his rather serious demeanour he had a heart. He could see the bond that had developed between the children and their foster parents and he knew that if he didn't let the adoption go through the children could end up at a children's home. Why deny them a loving and stable home, just because of the age of the adults involved? He turned to Ted,

"Now then, young man," he smiled, Ted jumped,

"Yes, sir," he gulped.

"What do you think, eh? Should I let you be a 'Blake'?"

"Oh, yes please, sir," Ted didn't hesitate, which told the judge all he needed to know.

"Like it there, do you?"

"I do, sir, mum and dad are the best... at everything."

Jean blushed a little at such praise and smiled at him.

"Anything in particular?"

"Well mum's a great cook, dad helps me with my homework and shows me things in his study, about science, n' stuff. And if they have to go somewhere, like last week, Uncle Matthew and Aunty Alice pick me up from school until they get back." He was almost breathless after this tale of his new family.

"Uncle Matthew and Aunty Alice?"

"Uncle Matthew is the Superintendant of Police and Aunty Alice is a a " he looked at Lucien for help.

"Pathologist, son," he supplied.

"Yeah, that, she helps dad and Uncle Matthew." His eyes shone with pride.

"Well it sounds like you are in safe hands, then Ted, and Julia." The judge smiled and turned his attention to Dr and Mrs Blake. "It would seem that Ted has made up his mind, and his testament to you and your colleagues is good enough for me. I am more than happy to allow this adoption, and I wish you well." He shuffled his papers "I'm sure they will make you both proud."

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They left the courthouse in a daze, Jean and Lucien were now officially parents, the four of them were a family. He patted the pocket with the adoption certificates in and smiled.

"See," Jean turned to her husband and smiled, "told you there was nothing to worry about." He bent and kissed her lightly on the lips.

As they walked to the hotel to pick up their suitcases Ted hung back a bit with Lucien,

"Dad," he whispered, "can we just stop in that flower shop, without mum seeing? Please."

"Of course, why?"

"I want to buy mum some flowers, I brought some of the money you give me for cleaning your test tubes with me," he pulled Lucien down to him so he couldn't be heard.

Lucien could scarcely hide the tears at the sensitivity of this little boy, his son.

Jean was so busy talking to Julia she didn't notice her two boys escape for five minutes. They caught up to her, but, as it was busy, they walked behind her until they got to the hotel.

"I'll just pop in and get the cases, love," Lucien touched her elbow, "you'll be alright with these two?"

"Fine, darling," she grinned, "easier than bouncing the stroller up and down the steps. Thank them for me, I think we'll use this hotel if we have to bring the children into town again."

"Right ho!"

As she watched him head into the hotel she felt a small tug on the bottom of her jacket.

"Mum," Ted held up a small posy of orange roses and baby's breath, "these are for you," he said, shyly, "from me 'n' Julia."

"Oh, Ted!" she blinked away the tears, "they're beautiful, thank you, darling." She bent and kissed him, "I didn't notice you sneak away, you were with dad, weren't you?"

"Yes, he helped me choose them."

"Well, I love them, thank you."


	12. Chapter 12

Lucien put the phone down and frowned. Matthew had called to warn him Fred Ramsay had been let out of prison.

"God knows where he's headed, but I thought you ought to be warned," he sighed, "just in case he comes back to Ballarat."

"Thanks, Matthew," Lucien leant back in his chair, "do Bill and Danny still patrol there?"

"About twice a week, not on regular days, though," was his answer.

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Pat seemed to be surviving, though Lucien couldn't see how. He still popped round on occasion to see Mrs Colley, posing as the caring country doctor, but it was really to get a feel for how Pat was doing.

"It's a lot quieter these days," she observed, "now he's out of the way."

"Indeed," he mused, "but you still see her about?"

"Yes, on the odd occasion, I wouldn't say she changes, but I suppose that's a good thing, in a way," she nodded.

"Mm... stable," he agreed.

He made a special journey to warn Mrs Colley that Ramsay was now free, just in case there should be any changes.

"I've got your number, doctor," she grimaced, "I'll be on the phone if I see anything."

"Day or night, Mrs Colley," he insisted, "I'm used to night calls as police surgeon, so don't worry about waking me if you need to call me, late."

"Thank you, it's nice to know."

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"Do you think we need to warn Ted?" Jean asked during a break in surgery, "in case he spots him in town."

"I'm not sure," he scratched his head, "I don't want to scare him, but at the same time it would be a nasty shock if he saw him and we hadn't told him."

"Perhaps we just need to ask Matthew's men to keep an eye out, then if he is seen we can talk to him about it."

"Jean, we can't keep asking the police to do our bidding," he sighed, "but, I have been thinking, since Bill had to collect me and Matthew for the Billings case, perhaps we should get you a little car, to run the children round, pick up the shopping..." he tried to gauge her reaction.

"It's an expense, Lucien, and I like walking," she understood what he was saying, and it had been a little bit awkward, having to ask Bill to give him a lift.

"You don't have to use it all the time," he smiled, "but I know sometimes you have to get quite a lot in town, and if the weather's bad..."

"I suppose we could have a look," she finished her tea and made to take the tray away.

"That's what I thought," he turned back to check which patient was next.

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They decided against telling Ted that Ramsay was out of prison, they were always with him when he was out. He was too young to be sent on an errand for his mother so they reasoned it was unlikely he would come across him on his own, although Jean found herself looking over her shoulder on the way to and from school.

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They spent Saturday looking at cars, eventually settling on a little blue morris minor, a red mini had been discounted as Jean said she'd struggle to get the stroller _and_ the shopping in the boot.

"Mum," Ted ran his hand over the front wing, "why do you need a car, you use dad's?"

"Sometimes dad gets a call out early in the morning, like when Sergeant Hobart had to come and get him and Uncle Matthew," she smiled, "but really he should be able to drive himself to work, and come back for surgery."

"Oh, so, we will go to school in this one?"

"If we aren't walking, yes," Jean stroked his head, "what do you think?"

"Can I get inside?"

She opened the door and let him explore the car and put Julia on the back seat. She watched them, Ted sitting in the driving seat and looking at the switches and levers, and grinned. She hoped he'd keep it to that for a few years, memories of Jack taking the old car and roaring towards the farm gate, only to crash into the fence, at twelve years old, flittered through her mind. She had been unable to afford to have it repaired and had to walk everywhere, until she had sold up and gone to work for Dr Blake. Ted turned to her and grinned - seemed it had his approval.

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Jean settled to using the car twice a week, mainly for shopping, and it didn't take her long to realise he was right. It gave her more freedom, they weren't always working out how to juggle the use of the one car, and if surgery was busy she could wait a little longer before going to collect their son from school.

It also came in handy one morning surgery...

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Harriet Tyneman brought young James to the doctor; he had a slight fever, very runny nose, bright red cheeks and she said she couldn't settle him at all.

"And what does Susan say?" Lucien smiled and started to examine the child.

"She's not sure, she had a nanny for Edward so anything mildly wrong with him was dealt with by her," Harriet ran her hands through her hair, disturbing the neat styling, "I'm sure it's nothing really serious, probably his teeth, but he's so miserable."

"Of course," he put his stethoscope to one side and stroked the little boy's head, "well, you're right, a mother's instinct," he stood up and went to the shelves, "try this on his gums, he is teething. A little drop rubbed over his gums, and a teething ring."

"Thank you Dr Blake," Harriet gave a relaxed sigh, "I think my mother used whisky."

"I wouldn't recommend it," he laughed, "not really good for him. Now, you are my last patient this morning, why don't we go and see if Jean has the kettle on and she will give you some more advice, from a mother's point of view."

"Oh," Harriet looked surprised, she knew her late father in law and the doctor hadn't always seen eye to eye, "yes, thank you, that would be lovely," and so much easier than going back home, where Susan was having coffee with her 'ladies'.

Jean was just giving Julia her morning snack and was quite happy to serve tea and sit down for a chat. She rarely saw Harriet in town, only when she was with Susan and Susan wasn't too chatty, really, and Harriet always seemed to stand back when they met.

"Teething, eh?" Jean reached into the fridge and brought out a carrot, which she peeled then handed it to Harriet. "Try him with this, just watch he doesn't break off a chunk, and never leave him alone with it."

James bit down on the cold vegetable and his whining stopped. Harriet raised her eyebrows, who knew it could be so easy, though he did drool rather a lot. Jean passed her a muslin square and they sat and drank their tea.

"Thank you, I suppose it makes sense," Harriet smiled, "the cold numbs the gums. Did you have trouble, with Julia?"

"Not much, she had quite a few teeth when she came to us so the worst seems to be over, though her final back teeth may give her some trouble. My older boys were awful, kept me up night after night." She pouted at the memory or the wailing, the red cheeks and runny noses, Jack being the worst.

"I didn't know you had other children," Harriet was surprised, she thought they had just married late in life.

"I was married before, a farmer. He was killed in the Solomons," Jean smiled a little, "we had two boys, both grown now, my eldest, Christopher has a little girl. They are abroad, he's in the army." All information she could have gleaned from Susan.

"I have a daughter in China," Lucien wasn't going to be left out, "she's a mother, so, we are also grandparents."

"Oh, I see," Harriet smiled, so nice to talk to two 'normal' people, with no airs or graces. "I take it Ted is at school?" She looked around for the boy she remembered seeing with Jean.

"Mmm..." she nodded, "Dana Street, a nice small school, he's settled in rather well."

"Susan says I need to get James' name down, but I don't know the schools here," Harriet didn't look enthusiastic, "apparently Edward went to St Patrick's, but I don't see that as a reason for James to go there."

"The best idea is to go and have a look, canvas the parents," Jean didn't want to give advice, her relationship with Susan was cool, at best.

"Where did your boys go? Dana Street?"

"No, St Patrick's, their father insisted on a full Catholic education for them."

Lucien looked at her, he had always assumed she had seen to Christopher and Jack's education, he knew she didn't think Jack was well supported at St Pat's. It was a bit of a cheek, really, considering he had got Jean pregnant before they got married, that wasn't following the church's teachings. He wondered about her first marriage, was it as she had always portrayed it, or had time pulled a rose tinted lens over it?

"It all depends on the child," Lucien followed with his observations. "Jean arranged for Ted to go to Dana Street because it is a small school, and I agree, it is a more ... more ... rounded school, they really seem to care." He didn't think he explained himself very well.

"I see, I think," Harriet mused, "I don't want James to be crushed, some schools do that, don't they? Force their ideas on the pupils, and the punishments..." she shuddered.

"Doesn't look like you had a happy time, Harriet," Jean patted her hand.

"Not really," her face clouded over, "but that's all in the past, I just don't want it for James." She looked at her watch, "goodness, I'm taking up so much of your time, I must get this one back for his lunch." She made to stand up, "thank you, for your kindness, I don't know many mothers here, who are willing to stop for a chat," she looked round, conspiratorially, "I think Susan puts them off." She grinned, the first proper smile Jean had ever seen on her face.

"Well, if you ever want just a chat and a cuppa, please call," Jean grinned back, "perhaps James and Julia can play together."

"That would be lovely, Mrs Blake, thank you," she looked genuinely pleased.

Jean took the tea things to the sink, "gracious!" She turned, "did you walk?"

"Yes, why?"

"It's raining, you know, that steady rain that soaks you through." Jean faced her, "right, I can find something for James to eat, stay for lunch."

"Oh, I couldn't impose..." Harriet found such a spontaneous invitation surprising in the extreme, this was something that never happened at home, Susan would just offer to drive the guest home, or have someone do it, like her housekeeper.

"Rubbish," Jean huffed, "if it doesn't stop after lunch I'll run you home, but the pram will have to be left behind." Harriet's pram was an expensive 'coach built' affair that didn't fold down. "Perhaps you can get a lift up here to collect it tomorrow."

"Mrs Blake, it's very kind of you, I don't know what to say," Harriet flushed.

"Oh," Jean waved her hand across her face, "come on, why don't you put James in the living room with Julia," she looked over at Lucien, "come and tell me what James likes."

"Anything you want me to do, Jean?" Lucien stood, his arms full of babies.

"They both need changing, James can use one of our nappies," she grinned at Harriet, wide eyed with amazement, "then they can play with the rings and duck. Keep them away from the train set, Julia's getting a little rough with it."

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Lucien got a call half way through lunch and left the ladies and children to finish and clear up. He had noticed that Harriet had got more and more relaxed as the time had gone by, talking about life with Susan, and how it would be so much easier if she had managed to make friends with some other mothers. Those in her 'circle' left their babies with nannies or housekeepers, and went out for coffee and lunch,

"...but James is all I have left of Edward, and no matter what people thought of him or what he had been in the past, he was my husband and James' father..."

Jean agreed it was hard to socialise when one had young children although she managed it more these days, than when she had run the farm. That is, now she had time to chat in the playground when she dropped Ted off or picked him up.

The babies were allowed to play on the kitchen floor while Jean and Harriet washed and dried the dishes. It had been a long time since she had done anything so domestic, and she found she quite liked it. Susan muttered about how Jean did her own housework, that it wasn't fitting, she should have a housekeeper and the doctor should employ a receptionist, that Jean shouldn't do such things, now they were married. But, just this one visit has shown her they were more than husband and wife, they were partners in the business, in life and in bringing up the children who had come so suddenly into their lives. It felt right, warm and friendly. She would like James to experience such love, as well as the love she gave him.

The rain hadn't stopped, in fact it looked set for the rest of the day. Julia had toddled into the living room followed by her new friend, crawling. Jean laughed, "seems my daughter knows how to handle men," she nodded in the direction of the two children.

Harriet laughed, "perhaps we could learn a thing or two." She turned to Jean, "Mrs Blake, I've had such a lovely time, I can't thank you enough for your kindness, perhaps, if the rain clears up one day we could take the children for a picnic, in the gardens."

"That's a lovely idea, I think they would like the freedom, crawling over the grass or the blanket." Jean agreed, "and it's Jean, please."

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Jean drove Harriet and James home, dropping them off before she went to pick up Ted. As she was taking James to allow Harriet to climb out of the back seat, Susan came to the door.

"Harriet, what's going on?"

"Oh, hello, Susan," Harriet took her son from Jean, "the rain was so bad, Jean offered us lunch and a lift. I'll go back tomorrow for the pram."

"But, you should have called, someone would have collected you."

"We were happy to have them, Susan," Jean felt she should intercede, "Julia had a friend to play with and we had everything James needed. He's a lovely little boy."

"Thanks again, Jean," Harriet grinned, "I'll see you tomorrow, unless it's raining again."

"The pram will be safe where it is," Jean turned to get back into the car, "but I must hurry, Ted will be waiting."

"New car, Jean?" Susan wondered.

"Yes, just for me to run the children around in," Jean knew Patrick had never bought her a car, solely for her use, but she didn't intend to gloat, she just told the truth, "Lucien needs to be able to go out without worrying if I need the car."

"I see," Susan mused, "Harriet, coming?"

Harriet grimaced at Jean, then straightened her shoulders and headed in to the house passing Susan on the way. It was going to be a strained evening.

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Over dinner, after seeing to James and settling him in the nursery, Susan grilled Harriet about her day. Harriet told her that James was teething and the doctor had given her something to put on his gums, and Jean had suggested cold carrot sticks for him, and a teething ring.

"He was a lot happier," she smiled, "and it's good for him to play with other children."

"Children of the appropriate social standing, Harriet, dear," Susan huffed.

"But they're always left with nannies, all the mothers I see don't bring their children round, and when I suggest it they turn up their noses." Harriet reasoned, "anyway, isn't a doctor good enough, he is a professional man, after all."

"But Jean was his housekeeper, and..."

"...she still looks after the house, why not? He changes nappies, very modern." Harriet applied herself to the dessert, restaurant quality profiteroles. Somehow, Jean's simple salad and cold meat, followed by a piece of plain iced sponge, was more satisfying. Susan' housekeeper was a good cook, but it was almost like dining out, at home, every meal. She wondered what the Blake's were eating.

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Jean collected Ted with a smile at the day's happenings. She had enjoyed Harriet's company, which was a little surprising, but marrying into the Tyneman family, didn't mean she had become one. She felt sorry that the girl had not managed to make friends among other young mothers and wondered if she could do something about it.

Lucien hadn't returned by dinner time, so she saw to the children, helped Ted with his homework and put them in the bath before she heard his key in the lock.

"Jean!" he called through, looking at his watch and rightly surmising she would be in the bathroom. She was just drying Ted off when he poked his nose in, "ah, there you are," he grinned, "need any help?"

She lifted Julia out of the bath and wrapped her in a warm, fluffy towel, "you can dry and dress her, while I see to your dinner."

"Right ho," but she thought she saw a hint of sadness behind his apparently cheerful demeanour. No doubt he'd tell her later.

"Is Matthew coming home, soon?!" she called through, wondering if she should put his meal out, too.

"Still processing!" came the response.

Jean put Matthew's dinner back in the oven and put Lucien's on the table. Ted would sit with him and tell him about his day, while she pottered and gave Julia her bedtime drink.

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"Looks like Matthew has got sidetracked," Jean observed, having settled Ted in bed, "I suppose we won't see him tonight."

"You could be right," he agreed, then, "does it bother you? He's supposed to live here yet doesn't turn up for dinner, goes out and stays out all night. You do his laundry..."

She smiled, "mm... reminds me of someone I used to know," she looked coyly at him, "no, it doesn't. They will settle eventually, either apart or together. Two very independent people."

He sighed and sipped his whisky.

"So, what was the call out?" She had a feeling it was something to do with Pat.

"Ramsay has come back to Ballarat. Decided to celebrate his release at the pub," he leant forward in his chair.

"Oh dear," Jean sighed.

"Quite, he then staggered to Pat's, kicked in the door and proceeded to give her a thorough beating. It was Mrs Colley on the phone, me before the police."

"Pat?"

"Lucky," he drained his glass, "multiple bruises, broken ribs, missing teeth. He gave her a right going over."

"Oh, Lucien, that's awful, poor woman." Jean was shocked, "will she be alright?"

"Truthfully, I don't know, one of the ribs punctured a lung, and until she regains consciousness..."

"What has Matthew done with him?"

"Danny and Bill arrested him, he's being charged with attempted murder, if she doesn't make it will be murder." He looked at her, his face was drained, "what do we tell Ted?"

"Perhaps nothing, until something happens one way or the other." Jean sighed, "if she does make it through maybe she will accept your help, or some help. Oh, what a mess."

"Dad should have tried harder, to find her, find out why she left. I wish Nell had told him the truth," he was angry, with them both, "surely she knew he would do his best to support them, and Pat's mother, stubborn, foolhardy. Why on earth did she not speak to dad, why run away?"

Jean went to sit on his knee and pulled his head to her breast, "I don't know, darling, I really don't. I am as surprised as you that your father didn't go after her, or try to find her, whatever... but I blame her more than him, Lucien, she could have got a message via Nell, well she did, I suppose..."

"...at least asked him to support her and the baby. Surely she must have known she was leading her only child down a path to self destruction..."

"...punishing herself and her child for her mistake."

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Lucien went out early to the hospital the following morning. He hoped Pat had come round, it would be an indicator that she may survive. He wondered how much memory she would have of the attack, would it affect her personality, the head injury, or would she still be the sharp tongued fury he had come to know?

He looked at the frail figure in the bed, bruises and cuts the only colour on her skin. There was little change in her condition, her pupils reacted evenly so he felt happier, that the head injury may not be as serious as he first thought.

Matthew crept quietly into the room, he needed to let him know that Alice had examined Ramsay, feeling that Lucien would have saved them the trouble of a trial if he had carried out that duty.

"Right, I see," Lucien hummed, seeing quite clearly, "and..?"

"Physically ok, Pat didn't get a kick or a punch in, but he's a belligerent drunk and Bill had to show him that Dr Harvey was not to be used as a punch bag."

Lucien's eyebrows hit his hairline, "he didn't attack Alice, did he?"

"He tried, Bill got in between them, Alice is ok, if a bit shocked." Matthew huffed, "though she says she shouldn't be, her father was as bad."

"Wonder what happened there," Lucien mused, "I mean she has said she didn't have a good childhood, but nothing else."

"She will, when she's ready," Matthew leant on his stick. "Now, how is Pat?"

"No real change, stable," Lucien hung the charts on the end of the bed.

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Knowing Ramsay was accommodated behind bars, Jean and the children walked to school, the skies were clear and there was no sign of rain. Jean knew Harriet would come and collect the pram sometime today. She found herself liking Harriet more than she thought she would, given her route to the Tyneman family. She wondered how Edward would have taken to fatherhood if he had lived, what would Patrick have been like, as a grandfather? Probably a big old softy, she told herself.

"Well, I think it's a darn nuisance," she heard one mother huff, "I mean, it was so nice to get together, once a week, let the children play together and have a cuppa and a chat."

"Good morning, ladies," Jean said, pleasantly.

"Mrs Blake, hello," one of the mother's smiled back, "such a shame, isn't it?"

"What?" Jean hadn't heard of anything untoward about school.

"We used to go to the church hall, Sacred Heart, once a week, meet up and have a chat and a cuppa, and the children could play together. Now the ladies have said we don't contribute to the running so they are stopping the access."

"Oh, well... that's a bit mean. I was talking to another mother just yesterday, saying she found it difficult to make friends because she never saw any other mothers." Jean tipped her head, "you know ladies, I might have an idea."

"Really?"

"Can you wait until tomorrow? I need to discuss it with the doctor, but I think he will see my thinking, and yours... let's see if we really need Sacred Heart." She had a feeling she knew who it would be, from the church, she did get some odd looks from those she used to consider her friends there.

"Oh, Mrs Blake," they grinned, she had a reputation for organising, "do you really think you will be able to help up out?"

"Leave it with me," she bade them good bye and headed back towards home, thinking hard.

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The house was very open, inside, which meant that keeping an eye on the children was easy. What the ladies had been discussing had been a once a week get together, so it's not as if she would be setting aside a room completely, and it would only be once a week. Up to now she had concentrated on running the surgery and house and looking after the children, so she hadn't thought much about a mother and baby group. She wouldn't have joined the one at Sacred Heart anyway, fearing the welcome would be less than warm, from the church ladies.

She stood in the dining room and surveyed the space. If she moved the table to under the window she could put cups and saucers out, a perhaps biscuits. She could pull the curtain over the opening to the living room. There was more, with Lucien about if any of the mother's had any concerns they could be addressed by him, even if he wasn't their GP.

As she gave Julia her snack and made herself some tea she made some notes. If she was to go ahead with this, she needed to be business-like. She couldn't supply tea and cake every time, she would have to find a way of funding it. Perhaps charging a small amount which could also go towards some toys for the children, or to pay a nurse or teacher to come and talk to them. She wondered what the situation had been at the church hall.

There was a knock at the door, it was Harriet. Susan's housekeeper had dropped her off with James, to collect the pram. She would walk home. Jean grinned as she opened the door, perhaps Harriet would be interested in joining the group, if it got underway.

"Oh, Jean, it sounds like a marvellous idea!" she exclaimed, "and, yes, I'd love to join. Is there anything I can do, to help?"

"That's kind of you, to offer," Jean poured tea, "I'm not sure yet, but I think there will have to be a small financial contribution, just for things like tea and milk, maybe a few toys."

"Of course, you can't be expected to provide everything." Harriet agreed.

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Lucien noticed Jean was rather more animated than usual when she put forward her idea for a mother and baby group. It did seem like a rather good idea, but he thought that using the dining room would mean it would have to be tidied and everything put back in order every time.

"Really you'd be better off with a room you could just close the door on," he reasoned.

"But all the rooms on this floor are occupied," she pointed out, "and it wouldn't work if I used one of the upstairs rooms."

"What if we asked Matthew to move upstairs, to Charlie's old room?" he leant on his elbows on the table, "the guest room is a good size."

"Before we start making such changes, perhaps we could see how it goes in the dining room, first?" she could see what he meant, but they would have to find somewhere to put the bed. She was of a mind to wait and see what Matthew planned to do in the near future, were he and Alice going to live together? Walking her home in ten years time and not coming back seemed vaguely ridiculous. "We rarely use the room anyway, really only at Christmas, unless you are playing the piano. Maybe we could move that, into the living room?"

She was probably right, but, "the decanters had better be moved, just on that day."

"I will talk to the mothers in the morning, find out how it worked at Sacred Heart."

Lucien decided he'd better leave her to it, he could cope with the changes, the probable upheaval. They could have a longer talk after the first session.

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So, will Jean's mother and baby group get underway? Will Pat survive? and if she does, how will it affect her and her relationship with Lucien?


	13. Chapter 13

Jean decided that it would be better to discuss the mother and baby group in comfort, so cleared space in the living room before taking Ted to school. The precious train set was taken into his bedroom and a selection of toys suitable for toddlers made available. There had only been half a dozen or so mothers who were talking about the group the previous day, hopefully there wouldn't be too many more this morning.

She decided to drive Ted to school, that way she could head home to prepare tea for them and greet the mothers pleasantly, without being rushed.

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She saw Ted off into school and turned to the group she had encountered the previous day.

"Good morning, ladies," she smiled, "I've given some thought to your problem and have an idea, but I think it would be nice to discuss it in comfort. But, in short," she looked at each of them, "I wonder how you would feel about the group meeting once a week, at our home?"

"Really?" one mother gasped, "you'd let us use your house, with the children?"

"Why don't we talk, over a cuppa," she nodded, "if you're free to come up to the house, now."

There was some discussion amongst them, she moved away to let them talk in private and talked to Julia. She was becoming a chatty little girl and Jean encouraged her. She was enquiring, nosy, very much a Blake, Jean thought, and she wanted her to achieve, to follow whatever dreams she had.

"Mrs Blake," she was called across to the group, "we'd love to take up your kind invitation. Are you sure it will be alright, there are eight children?"

"Oh, I'm sure we'll manage, between us," heavens she sounded like her husband, so blasé. "I'll head on to the house and put the kettle on," she grinned and lifted Julia up, "come on, poppet, we have things to get ready."

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Jean placed a tray of cups, saucers, sugar and milk on the dining table while the kettle boiled. She only had a couple of sippy cups so that was something that needed discussing, whether they brought their own, or bought some for the group, and if she didn't want to use two tea pots she would need to find a bigger one, perhaps one of the catering type, metal, but lightweight.

While she waited she put in a call to Harriet as she had expressed interest. She was delighted to be asked and said she would be there as soon as she could be.

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Lucien pulled up on the drive and stopped suddenly, before he scattered the prams and strollers neatly lined up by the house.. So, it would seem they had been invaded. He entered the house and headed to the living room, wondering how many children were crawling over the living room floor. From the number of baby carriages there should be seven mothers, but how many children...

"Dada!" Julia toddled over to him and held up her arms to be hugged. He lifted her up and smiled.

"Hello, young lady," he kissed the side of her head, "Jean, ladies," he nodded to the group.

"Lucien," Jean stood and went to greet her husband, "we were just coming to the conclusion that it would be worth trying to hold the group here."

"Of course, Dr Blake," one mother looked at them, "if you don't mind."

"This is Jean's idea, Mrs..."

"... Stevens,"

"...Mrs Stevens, she doesn't need my permission. But I do think it is a good idea, and if you are all happy to be here..."

He had always told Jean she was free to make decisions without asking him first. She would tell him about any ideas she had, if it meant any inconvenience to the surgery, or him, but she ran the business and the house, he trusted her completely. If he felt it was not wise, he would try to help her find away round the problem. Harriet had been quite correct when she observed they were a partnership.

"It's very generous of you both," Mrs Stevens smiled, "we were very disappointed when we were thrown out of Sacred Heart."

"Quite," he nodded and put Julia down on the floor. "well, I have some work to do, so..."

"I'll bring you some tea," Jean smiled, "it's fresh."

"Thank you."

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"So, you had a successful morning, then?" Lucien asked as he put out the plates for lunch.

"Yes, it actually went rather well." Jean passed him a plate of sliced ham and tomatoes. "We agreed to give it a month's trial, see how we all feel about it after that." She sat down and passed Julia's dinner to her, she was happy to try most of the food the rest of the family ate so Jean didn't have to find something special for her.

"Right," he made the ham and tomatoes into a sandwich, adding some mustard, "so what happened at Sacred Heart?"

"Apparently the group brought nothing in, to enhance or raise funds," Jean cut a small piece of bread for Julia, "they provided their own tea and milk, one would always bring cake or biscuits, and used some toys that had been donated. They offered to pay a small amount each week to use the hall but it was turned down."

"Sounds like they cut their noses off to spite their faces."

"Well, they aren't all members of the church," Jean smiled, "so we've decided that, everybody will put spare change into a jar, no set fee, which we will use to buy the tea things, we'll take it in turns to do biscuits or cake, and everyone is going to go round the op shops and see if we can find some toys that will keep the children occupied."

"Sounds like you have it well organised, who came up with the change jar idea?"

"Harriet," she watched for a reaction, "she said it was unfair to expect me to provide tea all the time, but rather than set a fee perhaps it would be better if we all gave what we could. That way nobody would be embarrassed. I'm going to keep a record, so they know I'm not using it to feed us, or buy things for our children, and if we have enough at any one time we might ask a nurse or teacher to come and talk to us, about healthcare, or learning or ... or... anything really."

"You know Jean, this was just to be a way for mums to meet for a chat, but this is more, this will help those that are struggling, with their firstborn, or managing more than one small child at a time, it's a darn good idea. I must think of a reward... later," he winked.

Jean blushed, which was silly, she was used to his 'suggestions', indeed she made a few!

"Would you like me to offer advice, or do checks, like a clinic, if I'm here. I don't think it would require a charge, just part of the group."

"Oh Lucien, that would be lovely," she reached over and squeezed his hand, "I'm sure they will be very grateful."

"I went to see Pat again this morning," Lucien's tone changed, "it doesn't look good. She still hasn't regained consciousness."

Jean's face fell, this was not what she wanted to hear.

"I've ordered more blood tests and another x-ray," he played with his cup, moving it round in the saucer by its handle. "I didn't see anything originally."

"Oh, Lucien," she touched his hand, "what do we tell Ted?"

"I think we ought to tell him she's been hurt," he stared at the cup, "that she's in hospital."

"Then tell him as things happen?"

"Yes, but not too much," he agreed, "we don't want to frighten him. He also needs to know that Ramsay is in the cells and won't be able to harm him."

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Jean left Lucien reading with Ted while she put Julia to bed. They had decided they had to do this together, give him as much support as they could.

"Ted," Jean sat on the opposite side of him, now he was surrounded by love, "Ted, dad has been looking after someone in hospital, and we need to tell you about her."

"Why?" Ted knew his father looked after people when they were ill, he was a doctor, after all, but why was this person so special?

"Because, son," Lucien reached across his shoulders, "it's your mother, Pat."

"Oh, but she didn't want me," he looked confused.

"We know, darling," Jean reached across from her side, "but we thought you ought to know, because of who she is."

"Oh," he looked from one to the other, "is she going to die?"

Jean was not surprised at the question but Lucien was and he looked at his wife in shock.

"We don't know, yet, Ted," she hugged him, "she is very sick. Whatever happens we'll tell you."

"Ok. I don't want her to die, even if she was mean to me 'n' Julia."

"Nobody showed her how to love, Ted," Jean kissed his head, "so she didn't know how to love you."

"But she let you look after me, so, that was a good thing." He snuggled closer.

"We're rather glad she did, Ted," she stood up and held out her hand, "are you ready for bed?"

"Yes," he hugged his father and slipped off the couch, "night, dad."

"Night, son," Lucien ruffled his hair and watched as Jean took him to his bedroom.

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"Children come straight to the point, darling," Jean wriggled close to her husband, and reassured him it was not unusual for them to be so direct. "It can be a tad embarrassing, sometimes."

"So we have some interesting questions to be prepared for?" he traced his finger down between her breasts.

"Oh," she gasped at his feather-light touch, "yes," she squeaked and his finger slipped lower down her body.

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Jean curled into Lucien's side. She hoped this side of their marriage would never dim, the way he made love to her was more than she had ever imagined it could be. Life was more than she thought it could be, a second chance at family life, without the scrimping and saving she had endured when her boys were small, fewer fights, though she still got exasperated by Lucien sometimes, which was no more than she expected.

"Penny for them," he stroked her naked shoulder, eliciting little shivers.

"Just thinking how lucky I am," she kissed his chest.

"I'm the lucky one," he turned enough to look into her eyes, "that you would even consider me as a husband."

She didn't answer, just sighed and wriggled closer.

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At the first ring of the phone Lucien was out of bed, almost before Jean stirred. It was the hospital, could he get down there, quickly? Pat had taken a turn for the worst. He told Jean, quietly, dressed and left.

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Sister met him at the door.

"Sorry to bring you out, doctor," she touched his arm, "her heart rate and breathing has become erratic."

"Don't worry about the time," he touched her shoulder, "let me have a look."

Pat was even more pale, with a blue tinge round her mouth. They had started to give her oxygen but he was certain it was only a matter of time, before her body gave out, or she gave up. her pulse was thready and uncertain. He listened to her chest, pneumonia had set in, her heart was, literally, missing beats. He ordered some antibiotics, administering them through the drip.

Sister watched him, his care for all his patients was more than any other doctor she had worked with, and, while she had no idea he was watching his half sister die, she felt sympathy for him. She pushed a chair over to him, and he sat, holding Pat's hand, with his finger over the pulse point. He would sit there until the end.

She slipped away, quietly, just giving Lucien's hand the briefest of squeezes before taking her final breath. He noted the time and wrote it on her charts. He had no tears for her, sadness, yes, but no tears. Perhaps it was best, she would be at peace now.

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"I doubt we'll get murder, but it will be manslaughter," Matthew looked at his saddened friend, "I will try for murder, it depends what else happened, what the neighbours heard."

"I know," Lucien sighed, "I want him to pay, not because of who she was, but because she was a human being, and nobody deserves that."

"Autopsy?"

"Yes, it will help the case, though it was the pneumonia that finally took her." Blake nodded, "Alice will take the lead on it."

"Good, perhaps you should go home, now," Matthew stood up, "go and see Julia and Jean."

Lucien looked at his watch, Ted would be at school, he would speak to him later, and, he supposed he had better arrange her funeral, after the autopsy. He sighed and left feeling sympathetic looks at his back.

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Jean was in the garden when he got home, she turned and smiled, then her face fell, instantly, from the tired look on his face she knew it was over. Pat had gone. She went to him and took his hands, kissed his cheek and just held him for a few moments. Julia toddled over to him and tugged his trouser leg. He lifted her into his arms and buried his head in her red curls, taking in that perfect scent of toddler-hood, somewhere between baby and school child, sweet and innocent. Somehow she knew dada didn't want his beard pulling or his eyes poking, she just snuggled under his chin, filling his heart with warmth. They walked hand in hand back into the house where Jean made tea and they sat quietly in the living room for a while, before he took a deep breath, came back to the present and the tasks he had to do. Find Pat's paperwork, birth certificate, full name, and work out what kind of funeral to have for her.

"Perhaps just a quiet one, darling," Jean whispered, "just us, I can ask someone to have the children, they are too young."

"Do you think I should have her put with dad?" he asked, "or nearby?"

"That is for you to decide," she squeezed his hand, "but perhaps he would have wanted that, if he had known about her."

He hummed and nodded.

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Bill Hobart stood outside the house, it had been sometime since he had been there, except to pick up the doc and take him to a crime scene. He waited patiently for his knock to be answered.

Jean smiled when she saw the dour sergeant at the door.

"Bill," she stood aside, "please, come in."

"Oh, I was just dropping these off, for the doc," he made no attempt to step over the threshold, "papers for Pat."

Jean noted that everyone referred to her as 'Pat', never Mrs Ramsay, "he's holding surgery, come in, I'm just making tea."

"I..." on seeing Jean's expression, "right." Chances are there would be some shortbread or biscuits on offer.

She sat him down at the table in the kitchen while she took a cup of tea to Lucien and let him know that Bill had brought Pat's things.

"Would you mind dealing with it, sweetheart," he sighed, "I'll be through as soon as I've finished."

"You've three more patients," she touched his arm and smiled, "I'll try and keep him there."

"Shortbread and tea should do the trick," he grinned.

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Back in the kitchen Bill was feeding Julia pieces of biscuit. Jean smiled, she had him wrapped round her little finger, just like she had with dada.

"So, Bill," she sat opposite him and poured her own tea, "the doctor asked me to have a look while he finishes surgery." She nodded towards the packet he had.

He pushed it across the table and she tipped the papers out. They were stained and crumpled, and in some cases, barely readable. She smoothed them out with her hands. There was a tatty copy of her birth certificate, giving her mother's name, but the space for the father's name was left blank. Jean had a vague recollection of the name, being a bit of a bookworm as a child she had often stared at the window of the bookshop. So that was the man Thomas had cuckolded. She didn't recollect his wife, she must have left by the time Jean was reading so voraciously. The date was 1925, third of August, Pat had died at the age of thirty seven.

There were some letters from Nell Clasby, they may have been the reason she came to Ballarat, perhaps to see Nell, find out the truth behind her birth. They would never know. The rest of the package was a jumble of bits and pieces, a ring, a broken locket and a slim volume of poetry.

"Not much to show for a life," Jean murmured.

"No," Bill agreed, "thought the book was an odd thing for her to have."

Jean opened it, it was inscribed on the flyleaf - 'To Phyllis, with love, Thomas.'

"Her mother's?" she thought, "so sad."

Lucien wandered through while they were musing on the things scattered over the table.

"Doc," Bill turned, "her things."

"That all?" he muttered.

"Yeah, 'fraid so," Bill nodded, "birth certificate, some letters ... nothing else we could find."

"Thanks, Bill, I appreciate it, she was ..." he sighed, "Pat was my half sister. I never knew of her existence until Agnes did some digging, on account of Ted looking like me as a lad."

"But she didn't want anything to do with you, doc, we all knew that," Bill gasped, "we knew you tried to help her, the men thought you were just being kind. I only knew because I was with Bryan Cross when he went to get her to sign the kids over, but I never said anything, Cross asked me not to. Your business, anyway."

"Thanks, Bill," Lucien patted his shoulder, "I appreciate your discretion. I don't want dad's name blackened, it's too late for that."

"And not necessary, dear," Jean looked up and smiled, "it was a long time ago, and if he had known he would have supported her and her mother, even if he never let anyone know here, in Ballarat."

"Quite, Jean, I'm sure you are right."

"Well," Bill stood up, "I'll leave you to it, anything you need doing, doc, if I can help..."

"That's very generous of you, Bill," Lucien held out his hand, "thank you."

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Jean went to pick Ted up from school with a heavy heart. They had only just told him Pat was ill, now they had to tell him she had died. She wondered how he would feel about this. He said he didn't want her to die. He was bubbling over with delight at his success in school, and it pained her to think she and Lucien were about to burst that bubble.

"Where's Julia, mum?" he skipped alongside her to the car.

"At home, with dad," she opened the car and he climbed in.

"Oh, is she napping?"

"No, it was just easier for me to come on my own. Dad has no patients this afternoon."

Lucien had asked Matthew not to disturb them that evening as he and Jean would have to guide Ted through what had happened, he hoped that if anything came up, Alice could step in for him.

"You look after the little fella," Matthew told him, "Alice will be fine. She's done the autopsy. As you said, the pneumonia took her, but she had multiple bruises, damage to her internal organs so she doubts she would have survived this attack. We are going to charge Ramsay with murder."

"Thank you, Matthew," Lucien inhaled deeply, "and thank Alice for me, I'm sure you'll do it better than me."

"Right," Matthew gave a little smile and hung up.

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Lucien was playing with Julia when they got back. They were rolling the coloured rings along the rug and he was trying to teach her to say the colours. He looked up and smiled sadly at Ted, who ran to him and gave him a hug.

"Hello, son, good day?"

"Yes, dad, I got top marks in my sums, today," he grinned.

"Well done, son, proud of you," Lucien hugged him, and pulled him up onto the couch.

Jean brought him a glass of milk and a biscuit, his usual after school snack, and sat next to him on the couch. Julia was quite happy to play with the rings while they talked to her brother.

"Ted," Jean was to take the lead on this, "Ted, last night we told you Pat was sick, in hospital."

"Dad was trying to make her better," he agreed. She noted he said 'trying'.

"Yes, well ... sometimes, Ted, it doesn't work, sometimes people are too poorly to get better so ..."

"They go to God, don't they, mum?" he looked at her, drawing his brows in, "he takes care of them, and they aren't broken anymore, in heaven."

Jean was quite taken aback, it wasn't how her boys had felt about their father's death. She'd taken them regularly to church, but she hadn't with Ted, so ...

"In school, that's what they told us, that's why they have angels."

"Yes, Ted, they do," she murmured.

"I know she wasn't happy, like you and dad, and me n' Julia, but she'll be happier now, because he can't hit her anymore," he continued to look at her for confirmation of his views.

Lucien looked over his head at her, eyebrows raised.

"What will happen to her body, now?"

"Erm ... well, that's only the thing that holds who you really are, so we're going to bury it, near dad's dad, your granddad," Jean stuttered, "we think he'd like that."

"Ok," he seemed quite content with this and drank his milk. "What's for dinner?"

Jean giggled, most inappropriately, she thought, "sausage and mashed potato."

Ted licked his lips, "can I read to you, now, dad?"

"Yes, son," Lucien smiled, though he was sure there would be more questions, possibly tears, "go and get your book."

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Both Jean and Lucien watched for any signs of distress in their son, but were surprised to see he didn't seem to be worried by Pat's death. She alerted the school, just in case he mentioned it and they had questions to answer, but by the end of the week Miss Burns was pleased to tell them he was doing just fine.

"Really, Mrs Blake," she told her when he was picked up one afternoon, "he seems remarkably calm. In fact, if anything, he is more settled than ever."

When Jean reported this to Lucien he suggested that Ted knew, now, that there was no one to take him away from them. Perhaps there had been a tiny worry in the back of his mind that Pat may change her mind and demand her children back.

"You could be right," she mused, over her evening sherry, "he hasn't asked about the burial, either."

"Well, it's while he's at school," Lucien reminded her, "perhaps he would rather be there, anyway."

"I don't think the graveside is the place for a child, do you?" she asked, "I'll find someone to look after Julia, just while we are there."

"One of the group?"

"I was thinking of asking Harriet," Jean watched for a reaction, "taking her there and picking her up, afterwards."

"Oh, Harriet, eh?," he smiled.

"Julia knows her better, we meet in town sometimes, take a walk in the park," Jean told him, "it's only going to be about an hour, isn't it?"

"I'll leave it to your judgement, darling," he put his arm round her, "I trust you to do the right thing. But now," he shifted to look directly at her, "I think the right thing is for you to finish that sherry and perhaps ..." he tipped her face towards him and gently kissed her lips.

"Never mind the sherry," she giggled, "that's a much better idea."

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Harriet was touched to be asked to look after Julia for an hour or so, she could play in the garden with James and she would give them both a snack. James' teething was progressing well and he no longer wailed through the night. Even Susan had remarked it was probably right, that she had gone to see Dr Blake.

On the appointed day, Jean and Lucien arrived at the Tyneman house to be greeted by a smiling Harriet and the housekeeper.

"Thank you, Harriet," Jean smiled as she handed her daughter over to the housekeeper, "funerals are no place for little ones."

"No, indeed," Harriet agreed, "we've put a rug and toys in the garden, it's such a lovely day."

"She'll like that," she replied, then turned to Julia, "be a good girl, sweetheart, mama and dada will be back soon. You play nicely with James." She kissed her and walked away, turning and waving when she reached the car. So far so good, Julia waved back and allowed the housekeeper to take her into the house.

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They stood by the graveside, just the two of them, Matthew and Alice had suggested they join them but Lucien had just smiled and said it wasn't necessary. However, Matthew thought otherwise, and he and Alice arrived to support their friends. Pat was buried without fuss, Lucien just said he would like to have known her better, but now she was at peace, she could not be hurt anymore. He was going to have a small headstone placed, with her name; Patricia Blake-Harrison, and her dates, and the inscription 'Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot heal'. Lucien had wondered for a few days if he should put an epitaph, but mindful that Ted said she would be an angel now and God would heal her, he thought this was probably the best he could come up with. Jean agreed with him,

"I think that says just what he believes."

The four of them walked back to their cars, after thanking the funeral home for all they had done. They weren't going to have a wake, or a drink, Lucien was going to go back to work after he and Jean collected their daughter and Matthew was going to finish the paperwork for Ramsay's hearing. Alice would give evidence, Lucien did not have to appear. As they got to the cars Alice squeezed Lucien's arm,

"You did your best, Lucien," she murmured, "it was her choice not to accept the help."

"Thank you, Alice," he smiled a little smile, "but given what your autopsy report said, I doubt even the help I offered would have saved her. She may have lived a little longer, but she wouldn't have been happy."

"No, I don't believe she would."

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Harriet offered them tea when they arrived, Julia was playing quite happily; after a few tears and reassurance; which they accepted, gratefully. When Julia saw them she toddled over for a hug and a kiss. They sat in the garden for a while, Harriet didn't pry, she knew they had been to a funeral, though Jean just said it was a family friend. James and Julia played happily together and lightened the mood considerably.

Susan appeared just as Jean was suggesting they had better leave, if he was to get anything done in the morgue and she was to get the surgery ready. Lucien stood up and smiled, "Susan, how are you?"

"I'm fine, thank you, doctor," she murmured, "don't leave on my account."

"We need to get off, Jean has just reminded me we have things that need doing," he smiled and turned to Harriet, "thank you for looking after Julia, I hope she behaved herself."

"She did, she and James get on quite well," Harriet smiled back, "I shall see you at the group, Jean?"

"Yes, as usual," Jean nodded, "and it's your turn to do the biscuits or cake," she grinned.

"Right, of course," Harriet reddened, she had asked the housekeeper to help her make something, she didn't want to turn up with something flamboyant or rich, the babies were allowed some, too.

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With Pat gone Lucien felt as if a great weight had been lifted off him, Jean noticed it too. Ted never referred to her, they would tell him more when he was old enough to understand. He continued to thrive at school and excel in sports.

The mother and baby group stayed put, at the Blake's, and Lucien found his list growing, so much he was wondering about taking on a nurse to do the babies, a clinic.

"I think that's rather a good idea, darling," Jean agreed, "do you want to write out an advert and I'll have it put in the courier?"

"That's probably the best way, I suppose," he paused, fork half way to his mouth, "and one for the Nurse's Home. You never know."

"Right."

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There will be more, I have ideas as to where this will go from here on in. Thank you for all the lovely reviews so far.


	14. Chapter 14

Jean sat with the basic words Lucien wanted for the advert for practice nurse. She needed to make it into an attractive proposition but they had decided not to offer accommodation, until they had met the candidates and whoever they took on had worked for a month. Lacking inspiration at that moment she decided to go through the post, get that out of the way while Julia was napping and unable to 'help' her.

She put the surgery post to one side and looked to see who had written to them, personally.

There was one from Christopher; he and the family were well. They had found out Ruby was pregnant with their second child and so far all was well, they hoped to be back in Australia for the birth. Amelia was happy and running around, eating and sleeping well and had some little friends on the base.

The other one was from Melbourne, but Jean recognised the handwriting, Mattie's. She was surprised, Mattie, as far as she knew, was still in London. Perhaps she had come home on leave. Opening the envelope it was not a long letter, but she wasn't on leave, she was home. Her father had had a stroke and she had come home to look after him, giving up her post in London. When she got to her parents she found he was really quite well, recovered from a slight episode and back at his post as minister. Her mother had panicked and described him as being at death's door. Mattie wasn't too pleased, but realised it would have been better if she had contacted her father's doctor. Ah well, she was back now, and wondered if she could come and see them. Then she would look for work. Jean had an idea.

She set out the advert for a nurse with experience in all aspects of nursing, who could administer a baby clinic and take over from Dr Blake in some cases if he was called away. She would need to be flexible and hard working, it was a busy practice. Interested parties were to call the practice in the first instance to have details explained. Apply by letter. Interviewees would be notified and would be required to attend bringing two references with them. Jean reckoned that she could tell from the first phone call if the applicant was in any way suitable, but she didn't want to get anyone's hopes up. By the same token, she knew Mattie may _not_ be the right person, but she was going to give her the option.

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"Could I speak to Mattie, please," she smiled down the phone, "it's Jean Blake."

"Jean!" Mattie shrieked down the phone, "you got my letter!"

"I did, Mattie, how are you?" Jean pulled a chair over to the phone and sat down to talk for as long as she could before waking Julia and going to fetch Ted.

Mattie rattled on about how her father was really well, she was bored, her mother kept taking her round for coffee to other wives, usually ones with sons suitable for her to be seen with. She had managed to catch up with Charlie for dinner one night which had been a lovely break from her parents' plotting. She would have to look for a job, but until she saw one she thought she might see her and the family, meet the children Jean had told her about in her frequent letters.

"Oh, Mattie," Jean laughed, "we'd love for you to come and stay. I'll get your room ready. Now, on the job front, there is a position going here in Ballarat," best not give too much away though she was perceptive enough to know Jean would mean with Lucien, "practice nurse, running a baby clinic, taking surgery for the doctor. The candidate needs wide experience in all aspects of nursing, must be flexible and hard working. I thought you might like to apply."

"That wouldn't be with Lucien, would it?"

"Now why would you think that?" Jean asked innocently.

"Oh, I don't know," in her parents hall Mattie rolled her eyes, "just sounds like something you and Lucien would set up."

"Ok, but, Mattie," Jean sighed, "it doesn't mean you have the job. It is going out on advert with the applicants phoning to get more details first."

"Right, that's fair, and it's only what I would expect from you, but it sounds really interesting, and something I would like to do." Mattie agreed, "so I will apply formally. When are the interviews?"

"Two weeks today, I think, I don't want it to drag on. Seriously interested nurses will apply quickly, those that have to think too hard are not the ones we want."

"Is this a secret from him?"

"He hasn't seen your letter, or know that you are home, so," Jean thought, "why not start your visit the day of the interviews. Catch the train that gets you here before I collect Ted. I'll pick you up, and him, and bring you back here."

"Sounds like a good plan," Mattie agreed, "I'll catch the one fifteen."

"I'll see you then, then." Jean passed on their regards to her parents and hung up. It would be nice to have Mattie back, she was likely to have far more experience than any other applicant, but she had to be fair to the others, and to Lucien.

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Lucien left the short-listing to Jean, telling her he trusted her completely.

"You can weed out the ones that don't have the temperament for such a post, darling," he told her, "I can weed out the ones that aren't competent."

"How do you want to do the interviews?" Jean wondered, "are you going to set them a task?"

"See how many there are, first," he passed her a sherry, "if there are only a few then perhaps have them during surgery, each one can assist with a patient."

"Right, I'll make it enough patients for the number of applicants, then," Jean settled against his chest. Mattie would be the last applicant, she would set her a challenge. Agnes perhaps, she thought, with a wry smile.

"What are you grinning about? I can feel it," he teased.

"I think I'll schedule Agnes for that day, surely she needs a check up."

"Oh yes, I'm sure she does."

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In Melbourne, Mattie explained there was a job opportunity in Ballarat and she had applied. Her letter had been sent that day.

"I can't sit around doing coffee mornings, all the time, mother," she smiled across the dining table, "I trained as a nurse, and a social worker, I need to do things."

"Oh, Mattie, darling," Maureen sighed, "isn't it time you settled down? Raised a family."

"Mother," Mattie exhaled, sadly, "I will, one day, but the men you introduce me to just want me to decorate their arms, not have opinions, or thoughts of my own. That's not me, is it?"

"I suppose not, " her mother hummed, "if you don't get it..?"

"I shall keep looking for something," Mattie smiled and resumed eating her fish.

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Jean was getting a little frustrated. The calls they were getting in answer to the advert were obviously from those who had designs on her husband, they simpered and giggled over the phone. There was about two, so far, who were genuinely interested in the post and possibly capable but none who were as capable as Mattie. Still she invited them to apply by letter, and she would let them know if they would be called for interview.

Most of the applications came from the nurses at the hospital, she listed their experience, length of time in the current position, details which she passed to Lucien with a number assigned. He would know many of them and she didn't want him to be swayed by a name. He picked five, one of which was Mattie, though he didn't know it. Jean reasoned it wasn't favouritism, that way.

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"I'm just going to get Ted, and pick up a couple of things in town," she poked her head into the surgery, "we are one candidate missing, must be running late. I'll be back as soon as I can be."

He looked up and smiled. "Right, well, I'll carry on, then. I take it the candidates are in the living room."

"Yes, and your patients are aware of the situation, so they are prepared to wait while you do the initial interview. Good luck."

"Off you go, I can manage," he grinned, "I have to work with whoever so ..."

"Quite," Jean smiled and took Julia out to the car.

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Julia was a lot better with the noise in the station now, and was happy to stand with her mother while the passengers alighted from the train. Suddenly a frantic waving caught her eye and Mattie was there, grinning and hugging her.

"Jean, you look marvellous!" she laughed, then looked down, "and this must be Julia," bending down she added softly, "aren't you a pretty girl."

She stood up, "she's a Blake, alright."

Jean nodded, she had told Mattie the whole story, then picked the child up.

"Julia this is Nurse Mattie," she smiled, "she's come to stay with us for a few days."

Julia smiled, "hello."

"Hello, Julia, it's very nice to meet you." Mattie patted her cheek.

"Is that all you brought?" Jean indicated the suitcase at her feet.

"Well, I didn't want to presume," Mattie smiled, "I'm only here on a visit, aren't I?"

"Of course, now," Jean turned, "we have to go and get Ted from school, so we'd better head off, or I'll be late."

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Mattie waited in the car with Julia while Jean went to fetch her son from the playground. She said she loved the car, it reminded her of the one she used to do her rounds in.

"It suits me," Jean nodded, "though I don't use it every day."

"No, I suppose you still do a lot of walking."

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"Is Julia with dad, mum?" Ted took her hand as they walked to the car.

"She's in the car, with a friend who's come to stay."

"Oh, your friend?"

"Mine and dad's," they had reached the car, "here we are."

Mattie got out to let Ted slip into the back seat, "Ted, this is Nurse Mattie," Jean introduced them, "she has come a very long way to see us."

"Hello, Nurse Mattie," Ted held out his hand, "where have you come from?"

"England, I've been working there," Mattie shook his hand and grinned, definitely a mini-Lucien.

"Really?" his eyes widened.

"Really," Mattie got into the car and Jean drove them home. Lucien should be on his third interview by now, and would need tea. The fourth nurse didn't know Mattie having worked in Melbourne until nearly two years ago, so there would be no reunion in the living room.

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The third interviewee was walking out of the drive as Jean turned in, she looked reasonably happy and waved as they passed.

"I'm actually quite nervous," Mattie admitted as Jean pulled up on the front, "I know I may not get the job, but, when I was here before, and Lucien let me help him and showed me so much, I did wonder what it would be like to really work with him."

"If you had just seen the ad, without me telling you, would you have applied?" Jean lifted Julia out of the car and set her down to run to the door.

"Oh, god, yes," Mattie gasped, "in a heartbeat."

"Whatever happens, Mattie, you have a home here," Jean smiled gently, "I've missed you, _we've_ missed you. Now, tea."

As the door was opened Mattie felt her stomach knot, the familiar sight and smell of polished wood and baking. She was home.

Jean made tea, gave Ted his milk and biscuit and set Mattie down in the living room, while she went to tell Lucien his last interview had arrived.

"Lovely, would you show her in, please Jean," he shuffled the papers and patient notes on his desk and made room for the cup of tea she had brought through with her.

Mattie stood outside the surgery, smoothed down her dress and patted her hair into place, not that it was out of place, a subconscious act. She knocked and waited to be admitted.

"Come," Lucien called from the other side of the door.

Taking a deep breath she turned the handle and walked in. He was just reading through her details, she cleared her throat,

"Dr Blake," she spoke quietly and waited for him to look up.

"Nurse ..." he lifted his head, "bloody hell! Mattie O'Brien," he leapt up from his seat and wrapped her in his arms, "my dear Mattie, let me look at you," he held her at arm's length.

"Hello, Lucien," she smiled, "I'd like to be interviewed for the post of practice nurse, please."

"Really?" he gasped and indicated she sit. "You want to work for me?"

"Who else?" she sat and folded her hands neatly in her lap, "I think I can do what you want."

"Of course you can," he laughed.

"Lucien, this is supposed to be an interview," Mattie reminded him, "I don't want to get the job just because we are old friends."

"Right," he could see she was serious about this, " so, Nurse ..."

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"Agnes, would you come through, please," Lucien opened the door to the waiting room, "I apologise for the wait, the interview took rather longer than anticipated."

Agnes smiled when she saw whose guinea pig she was going to be. "Nurse O'Brien," she nodded her head, "don't tell me you want to work for this renegade?"

"Somebody has to, Miss Clasby," she smiled, "now, how are you?"

Lucien watched Mattie do all the things he would have done without being asked, she referred to the notes, asked Agnes plenty of questions in a friendly manner, was firm in her suggestions to small changes in her lifestyle and diet, then asked Agnes if she had any questions, or if there was anything else she could help her with. Lucien just sat and watched. He didn't have to intervene, prompt or remind Mattie about anything. He agreed with her recommendations and noticed that Agnes was far more pliable under the nurse's care. Though the older woman took any chance she got to tease them both, suggesting that Nurse O'Brien would keep him in line.

"I'm sure Jean does that perfectly well, Miss Clasby," Mattie laughed.

"Between the two of you, he doesn't stand a chance," Agnes noted.

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Mattie went to sit in the kitchen with Jean while Lucien made his decision. He had already discounted two nurses because they needed to be guided though the consultation, and what he needed was someone who could take the initiative. Another had been rather brusque with a patient, suggesting she try harder with the diet the doctor had put her on, rather than talking about how she could follow his instructions with the minimum disruption to her life.

The last, apart from Mattie was competent, but only competent, she offered no ideas of her own, right or wrong. Even if he hadn't known Mattie he would have employed her, she was far and above more capable than any of the others. All he had to do now was write and thank them for applying and attending, but he had made his decision, and unfortunately they hadn't been successful. Perhaps Jean would be better at writing the letters. He headed to the kitchen.

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Mattie was sitting listening to Ted read, with Julia on her knee, Jean was preparing a roast for dinner. The radio was playing softly in the background, all was really as it should be, and it would continue to be for some time to come. He wondered what Matthew would think, about Mattie coming back, and Danny, too. He and Mattie had been like squabbling siblings when they both lived in the house. He cleared his throat.

"Lucien," Jean turned and smiled her broad loving smile, "how did it go?"

"Difficult choice, Jean," he grinned, "but I have decided there was one who I trust my patients to and that is, a Nurse Matilda O'Brien."

"Really, you think so, I mean ..." Jean teased.

"Are you sure, Lucien," Mattie looked up, "this isn't just because you know me, is it?"

"No, Mattie, it isn't," he sat next to Ted and ruffled his hair, "hello son,"

"Hello, dad," Ted grinned.

"... you, Mattie, did everything you should have, you took the initiative, much more than the others. You didn't upset the patient, and, yes, I realise it was Agnes, but she will give as good as she gets and, I suspect, Jean primed her to be as awkward as possible,"

Jean looked up at the ceiling, innocently.

"... but I think you blindsided her, and you asked her if she had any questions. None of the others asked that of the patient, and that is important. So, would you like the job, Mattie, it comes with accommodation as well? Jean will talk to you about the salary."

"Yes, Lucien, I would love to work for you," Mattie reached over and shook his hand, "when do I start?"

"Why don't you settle back in first?" Jean suggested, "that way you will get used to the changes round here, there's the mother and baby group to cope with, too, and the children, and Matthew, occasionally Alice, though Matthew goes to her more than her coming here."

"Is there anything you want to ask, about the work, Mattie?" Lucien asked.

"Probably, but at the moment my head's reeling, so I'll ask them when they come up, if that's ok with you."

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Mattie lay in her bed, and thought about all that had just happened. It was more than her father's health that had brought her back, full circle. Fate, perhaps, intervention from a higher being? (Not that she was particularly religious), but ... she smiled, she was where she wanted to be.

She had phoned her parents and had told them she had been successful and was now practice nurse for Dr Lucien Blake. The job was perfect for her, and Lucien took a moment to tell them she was perfect for the role. In anticipation she had already packed her things and would they be kind enough to send them on to her, she was boarding with the Blake family, again.

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"Well, at least she'll be looked after," Maureen mused to her husband, "and they are good people, so you told me last time you went there."

"Hm... yes, well, he's quite the one for helping the police." Martin muttered, "she was his housekeeper, you know."

"So Mattie said," his wife nodded. "Things are changing, Martin, our children are not the same as we were, we weren't the same as our parents, perhaps we should just let her live her life, and be here when she needs us."

Martin shrugged his shoulders, all he'd ever wanted was for his daughter to be happy, it would seem she would find her kind of happiness in ways he would never understand.

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Matthew had taken Alice out to dinner, so had no idea Nurse O'Brien was back. In fact, he didn't find out until the following evening when he came home after work. He strolled in and was immediately accosted by Ted who had a new book to show him.

"Looks interesting, mate," Matthew grinned, "you can read some to me, if you want."

"Ok, and we've got somebody new staying with us," Ted ran back down to the kitchen, where Mattie was peeling vegetables for Jean. He'd been told he wasn't to say who it was, they wanted to surprise Uncle Matthew.

"Right, better come and meet them, then," Matthew limped after him and turned into the kitchen. Julia ran up to him and help her arms up for her hug. He swung her up with his free arm and looked across at the table. The young woman raised her head and smiled,

"Good evening, Superintendant."

"Bloo...er, Miss O'Brien!" he gasped, "you're back!"

"So it would seem," she laughed, "how are you, Matthew?"

"Not too bad, thanks, you?"

"Very well," she carried on peeling, "I've come back to work for Lucien."

"I knew he was looking for a practice nurse, but surely you didn't come all the way from England just for Blake?"

"I was home, mum contacted me," Mattie put her knife down, "dad had a small stroke and she seemed to think it was .." she shrugged, "Anyway, I wrote to Jean to ask if I could visit and she told me about the job. I applied formally, and was interviewed yesterday."

"Right, are you sure?"

"Well at least I know what he's like." Mattie got up to take the colander to the sink, "I won't be surprised if I get left to see to surgery, and I've done baby clinics, so ..."

"Your father?"

"Fine, mum exaggerated," she rolled her eyes over her shoulder.

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Mattie settled easily back into the household. She helped Jean, just as she had always done, sat in on some of Lucien's consultations, listened to Ted read, played with Julia. It didn't seem five minutes since she'd left to go to England, which she had to tell Ted all about. He was fascinated and hung on her every word.

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"Mattie!" Jean called her through to the dining room, "can you help me set up for the mother and baby group, please."

"What do you need me to do?" Mattie noticed she had moved the dining chairs around the edge of the room.

"Help me shift the table to under the window," Jean stood at one end, "then there is a box of toys in the hall cupboard."

"Right," Mattie took the opposite end of the table and they moved it, "do you have to do this every time?"

"Yes, why, do you have another idea?"

"Well, if you aren't using it as a dining room, why move everything back?"

"I still use it for sewing," Jean could understand her confusion, "and if Lucien has things he needs to lay out somewhere it's best if he can walk round the table. He usually helps me but he went out early this morning. He did suggest one of the bedrooms, the guest room, but with Matthew staying here..."

"Ok, just a thought," she smiled, understanding perfectly, and went to get the toys, while Jean took the decanters into the kitchen.

"What about clinic?" Mattie appeared in the kitchen, "has it started or do you want to start it today?"

"How about we introduce you today," Jean passed her a tray of cups and saucers, "table please. If anyone wants to speak to you today you can use the surgery."

"But start it properly next week ..." Mattie mused, "... sounds like a good idea. Are they all Lucien's patients?"

"Some have transferred," Jean nodded, "Dr King was a bit annoyed when one family did, but they have four children, and the last one is hard to deal with. He suggested putting him in an institution."

"Oh, how so?"

"You'll see," Jean sighed, thinking of the little boy who had to be kept a close eye on, he seemed to have no concept of the idea of sharing, or that hitting hurt. She also thought it best Mattie made her own mind up.

Mattie raised an eyebrow, Jean just shrugged.

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The mothers and children arrived as usual, Mrs Stevens passed over a tin full of lemon biscuits, and assembled in the dining room. The children who were old enough were let loose on the toys and the babies were lay down on a couple of rugs Jean had set out. Mattie immediately worked out which was the child who was 'challenging'. He had gone straight over to Julia and taken a little car out of her hand.

"Robert," his mother called across, Mattie noticed she looked strained, "give that back to Julia, there are other cars to play with."

"Robert is obsessed with cars," Jean whispered, as she passed Mattie with the teapot.

"Right, what boy isn't?" Mattie filed that in the back of her mind, ready to be retrieved when she needed that specific fact. She had seen children similar to Robert, who struggled with the wider world, who seemed to inhabit their own little world, but he didn't seem to quite fit into that particular mould. She decided to watch him.

"I'm sorry Mrs Blake, he's just as bad with his sisters," Robert's mother, Mrs Farmer, sighed.

"I'm sure they give as good as they get," Jean smiled, "now, ladies, some of you may remember our guest, Nurse O'Brien. Well," she turned and smiled at Mattie, "Mattie will be our practice nurse from next week, she will do the baby clinics and if you have any problems you want to talk through, she's here to help."

Mattie grinned, recognising some of the women, "it's rather good to be back home," she lifted a child that had crawled over to her, "and to work for Dr Blake."

"You seem quite comfortable with children," Mrs Stevens noted, "have you worked with them before?"

"I've been in London for some time and worked on the wards, as a social worker and run baby clinics over there..." The child she was holding wriggled and she placed him down on the floor. "there you go little one."

They sat and chatted about how their children were doing, drinking tea and occasionally stopping young Robert from taking toys of the girls. Mindful that his mother had said he was as bad with his sisters, Mattie noticed he only made to upset the girls, but was happy to play with the boys. As he was the only child Mrs Farmer had with her, Mattie surmised he was a bit of a surprise,

"How old are Robert's sisters?" she asked.

"seven, nine and twelve," Mrs Farmer sighed, "Robert was a surprise, I never expected to have any more, with such a gap I thought ..." She looked tired, Mattie thought, "... of course my husband is delighted he now has a son, he's always been tough on the girls but he lets Robert get away with anything."

Mattie was building a picture in her mind, and it was a disappointing one, she saw him as a mini Edward Tyneman, but kept that thought to herself, as Harriet was there. She found Harriet completely different to what she would have expected from Edward's wife and James was a little sweetie, playing contentedly with Julia.

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Lucien and Alice looked at the body before them, tyre tracks on his clothing, grazes on his face and hands. He had been called out early in the morning to attend a possible crime scene. A body had been found on the road towards Daylesford and Castlemaine, and at first, appeared to be someone lying down, sleeping. As the motorist got out to go and tell him to get out of the way he noticed there was absolutely no movement, yet from the way he was lying chest movements should have been visible. He knew he had to get the police and looked around for signs of habitation, a few small homes dotted the landscape, he hoped one had a phone. He left his car, with the indicator on, hoping no one would rear-end it, and walked to the nearest house.

"Course we got a phone, mate," the overly cheerful householder grinned, "livin' out here can't afford not to."

"May I use it, please," the driver sighed in relief, "there's a body in the middle of the road."

"Bloody hell, really?" he stepped aside, "help yourself."

Having given a brief idea of what he'd found to the Ballarat force, the driver, Tom Simmons, said he'd go back and wait for the services.

"I'll come with you," the householder grabbed his coat, "help keep the traffic out of the way."

"Thanks, er..?"

"Norman, Norman Lively," he offered his hand, "Lively by name, lively by nature," he grinned.

Simmons was glad of the company, standing in the middle of the road, filtering the traffic round the body was a lonely job.

Danny took a statement from Simmons while Lucien and Matthew looked around the scene and the ambos took the body to the morgue to await the two doctors. There were no skid marks around, either before or after the body; Lucien's thoughts were that it was deliberate but until he had done the autopsy he couldn't be sure. Matthew had rolled his eyes, but, privately he agreed.

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So, what happened on the road? What is the story behind little Robert? I had intended to end this story but this idea is worming its way through the fog of my writer's block.


	15. Chapter 15

The autopsy on the, so far unknown, man in the morgue showed only that he had been run over and suffered crushing injuries to one side of his chest. He had bled internally, must have gone into shock and died. He smelt strongly of alcohol, beer and whisky.

"He must have drunk an awful lot," Alice muttered, "to smell like that. It seems to come out of his skin."

"Quite," Lucien agreed, drawing a phial of blood for testing, "with no other injuries but those caused by the vehicles I wonder if he just lay down for a nap." He meant this as a throw away remark, but it wasn't unknown for someone so intoxicated to just fall asleep where they stood or sat.

"A bit silly," she huffed, "in the middle of the road, but ..." she sighed, "I suppose stranger things have happened."

"Indeed," he mused. "I do think that whoever ran over him may have done it deliberately."

Alice continued, "I suppose so, if it was an accident then they would have called it in."

"I agree," he tidied the sheet, "so, was it an accident? I mean, running over a man in the middle of the road ... you'd notice it, wouldn't you? And the way he was lying, there may be a dent in the front bumper ... Alice," he turned to his colleague, "I really don't think this was an accident ..."

"... not an accident?" they hadn't heard Matthew come in, "bloody hell, Blake, it was dark last night, and that stretch isn't lit, surely ..."

"You'd feel it, running over anything the size of a man in the road," Lucien repeated, "in fact," he folded his arms and leant against the table, "it would have to be done at speed, or very, very carefully."

"I'd go carefully, if it were me," Alice offered, "I mean, hitting him, in that position, at speed you could stop the car, couldn't you? Crash it?"

"Headlights would have picked him out, you'd have thought," Matthew joined in the suppositions, "and, yes, you would notice running over something that large, in fact you feel it if you run over large sticks or stones. Wonder who he'd upset."

"Well, first you have to find out who he is," Lucien handed the clothes over, "no ID, nothing with a name or address on it."

"Damn!" Matthew hissed, "I'll see if anyone's been reported missing."

"A ute," Alice suddenly said, "a ute is higher up than, say, something like Jean's car, or mine, or even yours Lucien. Would you feel it as much ... in a ute?"

Both of the men turned and looked at her, eyebrows raised,

"Just a thought," she shrugged and turned to tidy away the instruments, smiling to herself.

Lucien looked at Matthew and grinned, Matthew glared, convinced he was putting Alice up to voicing his theories, she'd done it once or twice lately.

"You've been working with me too long, Dr Harvey," Blake teased, dispelling that myth rather too quickly for the superintendant's liking.

Alice continued working, hiding the smile, and the thought, 'probably'.

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With the body having been found towards Daylesford, Matthew and the boys concentrated their investigations from the houses near there and in the town itself, meeting with the local small force to discuss the incident. They armed themselves with photographs and started house to house inquiries and street patrols. It was a slog, the houses near where he had been found didn't know him.

"Must've been shooting through," was the most common comment they got. Lively, the man who had helped originally, said he hadn't heard anything unusual that night. It was relatively quiet, as usual, a few cars. Nobody stopped, nobody revved their engines.

Finally, they got a call from Daylesford station, to say a woman had reported her husband missing. He was supposed to have returned from a night out with some friends, a bucks night in Ballarat.

"It must've been a quiet one, boss," Hobart remarked, "we never heard a thing."

"Right," Matthew mused, "they just got quietly legless, then." He rolled his eyes. "Best ask her if she could come in and identify, just to make sure, and, find his friends!" He called after him.

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Mrs Mary Simpson sat in stony silence as Bill drove her to the hospital morgue. She didn't seem overly upset about her husband going missing; he had to wonder why she bothered reporting him missing.

Matthew was there to meet her and was as surprised as Bill to see how calm she seemed to be. She was reasonably well dressed in a skirt and blouse, under a smart blue coat. She was thin lipped and scowling, her hair was tightly permed dark curls round her thin face. He couldn't decide if that was due to a hard life or her natural form.

"Mrs Simpson," he held out his hand, "thank you for coming, if you would ..."

He put his hand on the door handle and pushed it open enough to see if the two doctors were ready.

Lucien looked up and nodded, "Superintendant," he stood and waited for the visitors to enter. Alice was discreetly waiting to fold back the sheet from the face, her back to the door. She looked at Lucien, who gave a slight nod of his head, indicating she should uncover the man's face. She folded the sheet neatly under his chin and stood back, hands behind her and looked up at the woman.

"Mary?" she gasped.

Matthew and Lucien shot looks at her, she knew this woman?

"Alice, huh, fancy seeing you here," but the remark had no warmth to it.

"I'm the pathologist..." Alice started to explain.

"Smart arse," Mrs Simpson barely paused to nod that it was her husband on the table, then looked Alice up and down.

"Mary," Alice reached out, speaking softly, "I'm sorry, for your loss."

"Sorry! Sorry!" Mary hissed, "what the hell would you know about sorry?" She watched Lucien cover the face, "you just left, more than marriage and family, that's what you said, you had to do something better than raise a load of noisy kids."

"Dr Harvey," Matthew thought he had better intervene before it got ugly, two women fighting was never a pleasant sight.

"Superintendant, I apologise," she turned to Matthew, "this is my sister, Mary. We haven't seen each other in some years."

"Over twenty bloody years," Mary snarled, Matthew didn't think Alice would have been so vicious if it had been the other way round, "you know what she did, superintendant? She just packed her bags and left, never wrote, never told me, or our parents, she was alright. No thought, she didn't care. She's probably best with the dead, she can't hurt them." She sniffed and glared at her sister.

"That wasn't why I left, Mary, and you know it," Alice murmured, stepping towards her, "you know what they expected of me, and what they had done to me, as a child."

"Lies, and you know it, poisonous lies," Mary snapped, "why didn't they do the same to me, eh? Why leave me alone."

"Because you did as you were told," Alice drew herself up, not willing to be hurt by her family anymore, "you went along with whatever they wanted you to do, but I couldn't do that, I wouldn't do that."

"Ladies," Lucien didn't think the morgue was the place to hold conversations like these, "perhaps you should continue somewhere else."

"I have nothing more to say to her," Mary sneered, "when can I bury him?"

"We can release the body as soon as you want, Mrs Simpson," Lucien reached behind him for the envelope containing his personal effects and nodded to Alice to push the body back into the fridge.

He watched Bill escort the widow from the morgue leaving him with Matthew and Alice. Matthew opened the door again and nodded towards it, raising his eyebrows at Lucien; in other words, 'out you go, doctor.'

As he passed Alice he gently touched her arm. She looked at him and he could see the hurt in her face. This was a job for Matthew, not him; he thought he'd go and listen to Mary's version of events, or what she knew of them, anyway.

Matthew watched her avoid his gaze, taking more time than usual to shut the door of the fridge, go to the side and start to fiddle with instruments that she didn't need. He moved to stand just behind and to the side of her and put his arm across her shoulders, barely touching her. She leant against him, almost.

"Sorry," she whispered, still not looking at him, "that was unprofessional."

"Not your fault," he held her a little tighter, "you were professional and kind, until she started. You had a right to reply."

"Thank you," Alice sighed, leaning her head against his chest, "I'm glad you were here, and Lucien, she would have been even more like her old self if I'd been on my own."

"Not close, then?"

"Not in the least," she looked at him. "Sorry, Matthew," pushing off him she straightened her white coat, "I don't really want to talk about it, not here, anyway."

"When you're ready to talk, love, I'm ready to listen," he kissed her lightly on the temple and made to leave her to her thoughts.

"Thank you, again, though what I've done to deserve your patience, I don't know."

"You don't know everything about me, either, Alice ..." he smiled and headed out of the door.

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Lucien told Jean what had happened over lunch, saying how hurt Alice looked, how different the two women were, seeing as how they were sisters.

"Look at my two boys," she reminded him, "the responsible one, Christopher, and Jack, the rebel. Just because they are siblings doesn't mean they are alike in temperament, does it?"

"No, of course, you're right," he grinned, "I've often wondered why Alice seems so cut off from her family. They obviously hurt her, emotionally, maybe even physically."

"I know she doesn't come over often but when she does," Jean stared into space as she visualised a couple of incidents recently, "she watches the children, the way they are with each other and particularly the way you are with them. Sometimes she looks as if she's missing something, some part of her. Oh..." she threw her hands up in frustration as she tried to explain what she saw, "I don't know, it's as if she never had that connection with her father, or her mother or sister."

"I don't think she did," Lucien played with his knife, "she said something about what was expected of her and what they did to her as a child. Frankly, Jean, I went cold."

Jean shuddered at thoughts that flew through her mind and she looked at Julia, happily pushing her hands into her fruit salad. Would the baby Alice have been allowed to do that? Would her mother have just smiled and wiped her daughter down? Somehow she thought not. Would her father have listened to her read like Jean's father did for her, like Lucien did for Ted and would do for Julia when she started school?

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Julia wanted to walk beside the stroller when they went to collect Ted, though Jean knew she wouldn't get all the way there. The little girl had started stamping her foot when she didn't want to do something, and, although she wasn't allowed to get away with bad behaviour, exerting her independence was encouraged. So, Jean would apologise to school for having kept them waiting, and Miss Burns would smile a knowing smile and say she was looking forward to the day Julia was in her class.

Ted was waiting patiently. Miss Burns had said that his sister had probably decided she was not going to get in the stroller, so mum would have to walk slowly.

"She does that, Julia," Ted agreed, "mum says it's good she wants to walk, it's good for her."

"Well, she's growing up, Ted," Miss Burns smiled, "and it's ok, that we have to wait a while. We can have a chat then, can't we?"

It was true, Miss Burns liked to talk to the little boy, find out more about him, how he felt about his day. He was so quiet in class she just wanted to be sure he was coping alright. He also found it easier to ask questions, check his understanding sometimes. He was worried he would be laughed at if he got an answer wrong when he put his hand up.

"You know, Ted," she soothed him, "making mistakes isn't a bad thing, that's how we learn. I bet your dad isn't always right, or the superintendant."

"No, Miss," Ted agreed, Lucien had admitted he made mistakes, got things wrong when he was a child, and sometimes now.

Julia had given up walking before they got to the school, and was now sitting contentedly in the stroller. Jean apologised but Miss Burns brushed it off, and said not to worry.

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Ted held onto the stroller as usual, passing remarks about things he saw or people he knew. They would talk about his day at the dinner table, it had become the norm to do that, then Lucien and Matthew; when he was there; could hear all his news and give their opinions on things that had happened.

"Mum, look!" he let go of the stroller and ran ahead.

"Ted! Wait!" she started to move faster, he was running towards Alice who was being poked and yelled at by some woman. Alice had her hands up in defence and she was obviously upset. As they got closer they could hear the other woman, telling her she thought she was above the rest of the family, that she was selfish ...

"Aunty Alice! Aunty Alice!" the little lad called. All he saw was someone hurting a friend, someone he cared about, and he couldn't let that happen, small as he was. He stopped in between the two women and faced Mary, for it was her giving Alice a piece of her mind, "Leave her alone!" he yelled, "you leave my Aunty Alice alone!"

Mary stopped in mid sentence and stared at the little boy. Jean caught up and tried to hide her smirk at Alice's champion.

"Ted, dear," his mother touched him, "Alice," she smiled at the doctor, and noticed a red mark, the print of a slap, on her cheek. That must have been what Ted saw, and it would remind him of what happened to Pat. "Alice, I was just taking the children home, going to put the kettle on ..." the invitation hung in the air.

Ted took Alice's hand and pulled her gently away, "come on, Aunty Alice," he looked up at her, "I know mum was going to make some shortbread today."

Alice allowed herself to be led away by the boy and didn't look back at her sister, "that sounds lovely," she squeezed his hand, and blinked the frustrated tears away.

Mary watched them head off, seething. Alice, it would seem had people who cared for her, a child who seemed to be close to her. She fumed, this was what Alice had run from, so why..?

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They walked in silence, Ted holding Alice's hand, making sure she didn't wander off and get into bother. He knew better than to ask questions, that had earned him a belting in the past. Not that mum or dad would do that, they'd promised, but ... some things were hard to forget. He gripped Alice's hand a little tighter. She felt the pressure and looked down at him. Shaking his hand, gently, she smiled as he looked up.

"Thank you, Ted," she whispered, "you were very brave."

"'s ok, Aunty Alice," he smiled back, "you alright?"

"I am, now," her voice was soft and warm, "because of you."

Jean, walking behind them, mused as she heard the conversation and watched the interaction between her son and her husband's colleague, there seemed to be a bond there, a growing bond. She was, however concerned that this had upset him, his grip on Alice's hand was tighter than usual, his reaction to what he had seen was probably what he did when he was still trying to protect his sister from Ramsay.

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Jean lifted Julia out of the stroller and went to put the kettle on, do as she would usually do. Milk and a biscuit for Ted, the shortbread she had baked that day, tea for Alice and herself, perhaps Mattie would join them. Lucien, thankfully, was out at the hospital attending to his patients. Jean could see a bruise emerging on Alice's cheek, where the red mark had been. On the pretence of seeing to Julia, she went into the surgery, where the nurse was writing up some notes. She was interested in Robert Farmer, having spent some time observing him when he came with his mother and the other children.

"Mattie, good," Jean stood at the doorway, "could you, er ... Alice has a bruise on her cheek, I don't think ... er" Jean wasn't quite sure how to put it, Alice would not be the best patient.

Mattie stood up, concern on her face, "I'll have a look," she looked past her, "hello Ted."

"Nurse Mattie," he squeezed past his mother, "Aunty Alice has been hit, I think you should look at her face."

Jean bit the inside of her lip to stop the smile, it looked like he was really looking after Alice.

"Right, then, let's go and have a look." Mattie smiled and followed him out of the surgery and into the living room, where Alice was sitting on the couch, staring into space, apparently not even aware she had been left.

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Mattie looked at her, the bruise was there, just on her cheekbone, as was a small amount of swelling.

"Dr Harvey," Mattie sat next to the obviously shocked woman, "can I have a look? Ted seems to think you need some attention."

"Hm? What?" Alice blinked and turned, "Oh, really?" she put her hand to the mark.

"Jean," Mattie called softly, "some ice, please." She turned back to her patient, "there's some swelling," she informed her. "What happened?"

"Oh, it was nothing," Alice brushed it off, "a silly argument, my sister ... she can get ... " she inhaled, "she can get over excited."

Mattie put on her gloves and gently touched round the bruise, Alice winced.

"I doubt there's any real damage," Mattie took the ice Jean had wrapped in a clean handkerchief, "if she only used her hand." She put the ice gently against the swelling and Alice reached up to hold it in place.

"Yes, just her hand," Alice agreed, absent-mindedly. She allowed Mattie to check her pupils, blinking in the sharp beam of the small torch.

"You'll be fine," the nurse took her gloves off and squeezed her shoulder. "Tea, I think."

Jean appeared with the tray and told Alice she had called Matthew.

"You didn't need to, he has other things to do," Alice looked up, "Mr Simpson, finding who he was with last night." She realised she didn't know her brother in law's first name, nobody had said. There again, until a few hours ago she didn't even know she had a brother in law. She wondered if Mary had any children, did she have any nieces or nephews? Their conversation had not touched on the subject, it was more Mary shouting at her about leaving the house, about the lies she believed Alice had told about the beatings she had had as a child. Mary had, as Alice pointed out, been the good girl of the two, the one who followed the path mapped out for her by her parents; Alice had rebelled, gone her own way, shone at school, been, what her mother called, a clever-clogs, a smarty-pants. Mother didn't believe girls should have careers, use their brains, they were supposed to have a little job until they married and then run a home and bring up children, like she did. Alice's rebellion had brought beatings, the belt, she had been locked in her room as punishment for going to the library instead of doing her chores, belittled and laughed at. Through it all the stubborn little girl had persisted and found a way to go to university, become a doctor and leave all thoughts of a small life behind.

"Yes I did," Jean's voice broke through her thoughts, "he said he would be here as soon as possible, and you are to wait for him. I'll set a place for you at dinner."

"Jean ..."

"Alice ..."

"Right, yes, ok," Alice sighed and sat back on the couch, too drained to argue.

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Ted stood waiting by the door for Matthew to return and when he did he escorted him to the living room then, having decided he had done as much as he should do, headed to the kitchen to set the table for dinner. He had spent the time they were waiting for the superintendant, reading to Alice and asking her for help with his maths. He had nearly caught up with his classmates because of the extra little bit of work he did at home each night, and soon it would be his choice to continue or to just play after school. Somehow, both Jean and Lucien thought he would choose to continue. Helping the little boy with his homework had taken Alice's mind off what Mary had done, but not off the life that had led to the incident.

Matthew stood and looked at her. He had been wondering about her sister. Mary looked to be the older of the two, but he wouldn't like to bet on it. Bill had interviewed her about her husband's friends, the men he had gone out with that night. He had some interesting things to tell her, after dinner.

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Jean wasn't sure if she should feed the children separately, if they were going to discuss the case while they ate, or if they would just listen to Ted talk about his day. Alice was talking to Matthew, holding his hands and looking deep into his eyes, Jean could see as much from where she was in the kitchen. She saw him lean forward and kiss her tenderly.

"Dad's back," Ted observed, hearing the car pull up on the drive.

"Best get dinner finished then," she smiled at him.

"Can I help?"

"Well, you've set the table," she paused in draining the vegetables, "perhaps you could keep Julia occupied, she seems to be trying to get on Matthew's knee."

"Right ho," he headed off and took Julia to play with the bricks until dinner was ready.

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Once the children had eaten Jean took them out of the way. They hadn't discussed the interview or any part of the case. Ted kept encouraging Alice to eat her dinner and Jean thought she ate simply to placate him, but at least she ate. She found his reaction interesting and amusing, in part. Ted would always look out for those he cared for, for his family and friends.

While Lucien and Mattie cleared the kitchen Alice and Matthew sat in the sunroom to finish their discussion about Mary and how she had been the easier child for her parents to deal with. Although she had told Matthew she had been punished for wanting to have a career, for being wilful, she hadn't told the details of the punishments. That was still too difficult for her to face, the memories had come to the surface from where she had buried them. Mary had said she lied, about the beatings, but she did have proof, and Matthew thought that was why she would never let him see her completely naked, always wearing a nightdress or her slip. He'd never insisted, he loved her for who she was, all her little ways made her more interesting, and, as his childhood hadn't been exactly all sunshine a roses, easier for him to love.

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Jean let Ted read in the living room while she put Julia to bed then suggested he put his book away and get into bed. She would sit with him, reassure him everything would be alright.

She couldn't scold him for running off into a potentially dangerous situation but she did say he was not to feel he had to defend everybody in trouble.

"She hit Aunty Alice, mum," he frowned, "that's wrong."

"I know darling," she insisted, "but she could have hurt you. Aunty Alice wouldn't want that."

"I think I'll be a policeman when I grow up, mum," he smiled, "like Uncle Matthew. He helps people in trouble."

"I think you'll make a wonderful policeman, dear," she smiled. "Now, settle down, you've had a busy day and you have school tomorrow."

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Jean joined the others in the living room where Lucien had not poured her a drink, not knowing these days whether it would be whisky or sherry. She opted for sherry and sat in the chair opposite him.

"Right, now we are all here I can tell you what we have so far," Matthew sipped his whisky and looked round the room. "Apparently Doug Simpson and quite a large group of friends had originally planned to come into Ballarat to attend a Buck's night. We caught up with some of these mates and it transpires they bought plenty of beer and whisky and decided to light a fire in a field and have an evening outdoors. They went in two utes, you were right there, Alice," he turned to her sitting next to him, "they all piled into them and basically drank themselves silly."

"Even the drivers, Matthew?" Jean raised her eyebrows.

"Yeah, which is why Simpson's death went unnoticed." He nodded, "it must've happened on the way home, he was in the back of the first vehicle absolutely legless, his mates say, practically unconscious. It would appear he fell out and the second ute drove over him. They say they weren't going fast, due to the inebriated state they were in, but nobody noticed the bump in the road."

"So it was an accident?" Alice sighed. "Mary isn't going to be happy, that he got so drunk. Our parents never touched alcohol, I can't see her being any different. Oh dear." She sighed and leant against Matthew, unconsciously seeking comfort.

"Well, I am going to go and let her know how he died, she needs that," he turned and smiled softly at her, "she lives just on the edge of Daylesford."

"What did he do, her husband?" Alice lifted her head and looked at him, "will she be alright, financially?"

"He ran the shoemaker's shops, in the town," he told her, "a good business, by all accounts, she should be alright." He looked at her and a thought hit him, "you weren't going to offer, were you? I don't think you'd get a favourable reaction."

"She's my sister, Matthew, but no, I wasn't going to offer money, just support."

"Good, but she probably won't take kindly to it," he squeezed her gently, "I don't want you to get hurt, she wasn't very pleasant to you."

"Can I come with you," she asked, "when you go to tell her?"

"Alice..."

"Please," she took his hand, "I know it won't go well, but if I don't she'll only think the worst of me."

"Well ... alright, but," he squeezed her hand, "if she reacts badly you go straight out to the car."

"Matthew ..."

"I mean it, Alice. She has already assaulted you in the street, I don't want to have to arrest her for injuring you."

"I suppose you're right."

"I am," he said firmly.

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Jean checked the children, particularly Ted. She was a little concerned that the incident had upset him but he was trying to hide it. As she had left, escorted by Matthew, Alice had said she hoped he wouldn't be too disturbed by what had happened, but Jean should be proud of him, for his bravery.

"He says he wants to be a policeman, like Matthew, when he grows up," Jean smiled.

"I shall be happy to be at his passing out parade, then, Jean," Matthew leant in and kissed her cheek, "he's a plucky little fella."

"I'll make sure you get an invitation," she laughed, "both of you."

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"You won't ever stop him," Lucien pulled her close in bed, "he knows how far it can go. All we can hope is that he thinks it through first."

"He wouldn't be a Blake if he didn't go charging in with no thought to his own safety," Jean traced her finger over the scar from the stabbing before the wedding.

"Sorry, it must be in his blood," Lucien shivered at the touch and started to make little circles on her shoulder, by the strap of her nightdress.

"Mmm ..." she bit her lip, his touch did things to her that caused her to lose track of her thoughts, "perhaps, all we ... um ... can do, Lucien, oh," she was becoming incoherent, again, "is, er, watch him ... aah" she sighed into his mouth as his lips claimed hers, and all thoughts of discussing how to keep Ted from wading in were consigned to the following day.

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So, how will Mary react to Alice's attempt at reconciliation? Will Ted continue to jump in, just like Lucien, after all, he is part Blake!


	16. Chapter 16

More of an Alice chapter than a Ted one.

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Matthew left Alice's house early the following morning. He wanted to get fresh clothes and do some paperwork before they headed over to Mary's. He still didn't know exactly what had happened to Alice, though she had said she had been beaten regularly, one time so badly they had had to take her to the hospital, but claimed she had had a fall. Her injury, which Matthew hadn't seen, was stitched up and she was sent on her way. But that was in her early teens, as she said, a long time ago.

They didn't make love that night, he just held her as she slept, which she was grateful for. She just needed him there, to feel safe. For some, to her, silly, reason now she knew her sister was in the area she didn't feel safe. She had told him Mary was the older of the two, by just a year. she had also been a little too ready with her hand if Alice didn't do her bidding; a slap to the face, a push here and there ...more or less what a sibling argument was deemed to be normal. Mary had also discovered that she could blame Alice for most transgressions, a breakage here or there, a tear in her dress ... and Alice would get the punishment, it didn't matter how much Alice protested her innocence, because she was the more stubborn of the two nobody believed her.

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It was a lovely warm and sunny morning, so after a relaxing bath Alice chose her clothes carefully. Nothing too formal, something light but smart. She chose a pale blue straight skirt and shirt style blouse, with the sleeves rolled up and the collar standing round her neck. She looked professional, and, with a waist slip instead of the full slip she usually wore, she would not be too warm. She had a tendency to flush in times of stress and she felt this would be one of those times.

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Matthew pulled up at a pair of open gates, through which they could see a large house with extensive gardens.

"Very different to where we grew up," Alice mused, "a small house in Sydney."

"Wonder why they moved out here," Matthew turned the car and drove up the drive.

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The door was opened by the housekeeper and they were led into the living room, after Matthew had told her why they were there and that they would like to speak to Mrs Simpson. The room was expensively furnished but not garish in anyway, simple lines and clean colours, a few ornaments dotted here and there, a couch and two chairs in front of and either side of the fireplace. Neither looked like the kind you could curl up with a good book in.

"Superintendant," Mary's voice cut through their musings, "Alice, what are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to see if you are alright, after the shock," Alice had thought about the question she was bound to be asked and had her answer ready.

"Mrs Simpson," Matthew cut in, "I wanted to tell you how your husband died, I thought you should know it was an accident."

Mary indicated they should sit, and, after she took one of the chairs Matthew and Alice sat on the couch.

"It would seem he and his friends did not go to Ballarat, they decided to have an outdoors celebration." He looked for any reaction, none, so far. "They built a campfire and sat round it drinking and talking. Drinking rather a lot, apparently. They were on the way home, piled into two utes, your husband in the first on ..." he gently told her the full story, watching her brows furrow and her draw her lips into a thin line of distaste.

"I am sorry, Mrs Simpson," he finished.

"Doug didn't drink," she muttered.

"He had done that night," Matthew replied, "the blood analysis showed he had drunk enough to ..."

"... knock out an elephant," Alice finished the sentence, with Lucien's description.

"Suppose you did the work," Mary hissed at her sister.

"Actually, no," Alice replied, "Dr Blake drew the blood, and the path lab did the analysis."

"Why?"

"Why what?" Alice looked confused.

"Why didn't you do it?"

"Because Dr Blake did, there was no reason, he usually draws the blood, if he's there," Alice answered truthfully.

There was silence for a moment then Alice asked if there was anything she could do.

"Why the hell would you want to do anything for me?" Mary snapped, "not like you to think of someone else."

Matthew saw Alice stiffen, Mary really didn't know her sister very well, but then, they had been estranged.

"Whatever has happened in the past, Mary, you are still my sister." Alice reached over to touch her hand but Mary slapped it away.

"Well there is nothing you can do except get out," she stood up, "coming the concerned sister just so you can get something out of me."

"Mary!" Alice was horrified, "that is not why I'm here. I don't need anything from you, I was here for you."

"You are a liar, you always have been!" Mary shouted, "you lied about your childhood, I bet all these people, him," she nodded towards Matthew, "that doctor you work with, think you had a dreadful life, the beatings, ha! When did father ever beat you?"

"Oh, when you told him and mother that it was me that broke the vase, or tore your dress," Alice stood up to face her, "when I wanted to be a doctor, when I spent my time studying instead of cleaning the house ..."

"Liar!"

"Liar am I? Do you really want to see what he did, why I had to go to have stitches after I supposedly fell!" Alice pulled her blouse from her skirt, angrily.

"Alice!" Matthew reached out towards her, but she brushed his hand away and continued to undo the buttons and shrug the shirt off, dropping it to the floor. She turned her back, "Those are the scars from his belt buckle, nothing to do with a fall!" The marks at the base of her rib cage could only have been made by a buckle, Matthew had seen enough over his lifetime in the force. They hadn't been well stitched, the scars were raised and red. Alice was biting back the tears, she had done her best to make sure Matthew never saw the scars, the reason she always wore a nightdress, wouldn't let him remove her slip.

Mary gasped and put her hand to her mouth, nobody, not even Alice deserved that.

"Yes, well," she muttered, "still no reason to leave home the way you did."

"If I hadn't they would have locked me in my room, again, another beating," Alice took the shirt Matthew had picked up from the floor and pulled it on, her hands shaking. She couldn't look at him, if she did she would cry so she concentrated on trying to do up the buttons. Her hands shook so much even that simple task was beyond her and he could see her grow more frustrated. He stood in front of her and gently fastened the buttons, then took his uniform jacket off and draped it over her shoulders, a chill having settled over the room.

She wanted to lean into his chest and sob, but couldn't show any sign of weakness in front of Mary. He wanted to wrap his arms round her but it would not be professional and they were both professionals.

Mary didn't know what to say, really, but as she thought about her childhood she realised she may have got her sister all wrong. She must have been strong, to make her way in a man's world. True, her own life had been comfortable. She had worked for a while as a secretary to Doug's father, at the shoemakers in Sydney. She had met and fallen in love as far as she was able to, her parents approved when he called to take her to a dance, married Doug and his father had sent him to Daylesford to set up and manage the business out there. Things had gone well and they lived in comfort, raised two children, and when hers and Alice's parents had become frail in their old age they had had them come to live with them until their deaths. Perhaps, they needed to talk, set the record straight. There was one thing she did notice, the connection between Alice and Matthew.

There was a gentle knock on the door which broke the awkward silence, someone spoke, quietly,

'Mother?"

Matthew looked up as Mary turned round. A young lad and slightly younger girl stood hesitantly in the doorway. So, it would seem Alice had a nephew and a niece. He noticed the girl was more a Harvey, with the dark hair and blue eyes.

Mary straightened her shoulders, "Duggie, Jane," she addressed them, "the superintendant was just explaining how your father died."

The boy headed across the room, hand outstretched, "Douglas Simpson, junior," he introduced himself, then turned and indicated the girl, "my sister, Jane."

"Matthew Lawson," Matthew noted the boy's grip was strong, assured, "Dr Alice Harvey," Matthew looked over at Alice as she composed herself, "your aunt."

"Ah," Douglas held out his hand to her, "Aunt Alice, I'm glad to meet you, at last." He smiled, the stories his mother had told, albeit brief and not entirely complementary, had intrigued him, "Jane and I have often wondered if we ever would."

"Er ... sorry, Douglas?" he nodded, she had got it right, "I didn't even know Mary had children, we had lost touch."

"Indeed," he turned to Matthew while Jane went shyly to Alice.

"Are you really a doctor?" she asked, eyes bright, inquisitive, "I'd like to do something like that."

Alice was a bit taken aback by this and wondered how Mary felt about that.

"Yes, I'm the pathology registrar at Ballarat Hospital," Alice took her offered hand in hers, noting the smallness of it.

While Matthew talked to Douglas, mature beyond his twenty years, Jane probed Alice for details about her job, how she could get to be a doctor.

"What does your mother think of your plans?" Alice was wary, given how her parents had greeted her ambitions.

"Oh, I don't think I told her, dad was all for it," Jane laughed.

"Really? Well ..." Alice thought for a moment, "good for him. Nice that a father should support his daughter. You need to get good grades in science and it's a long university course ..."

"I get excellent grades in science," Jane assured her. Their conversation was halted by Mary's voice,

"He didn't drink," she was insisting when Douglas said he wasn't surprised his father was legless.

"Mother," he sighed, "he did, whisky, it's in his desk drawer, though he never got drunk at home." He turned to Matthew, "he wasn't a drunk, as such, though I have had to help him to bed on the odd occasion he's come home a little the worse for wear. A night out with his friends, from the neighbouring farms."

Mary slumped into a chair, Alice went to her and crouched down in front of her.

"Mary, I'm sure he didn't want to upset you," she murmured, "he would know how you feel about drink, I suspect like our parents, so he would have a little nip, every now and then, and possibly socially."

"Alice," Mary's lip trembled, "has my whole life been a lie? I always believed you were a liar, because mum and dad said you were. I know I wasn't the best sister, and yes, you were easy to target because you were already on the wrong side of them, first with your wilfulness, father called it, then with your ambitions, so I suppose I'm sorry for that. Doug was a good husband, I never wanted for anything, and I won't now he has gone. I could have stood the drink, if it was, as you say, just a little nip now and again. You know," she looked round as if the walls could hear, "mum took to the odd nip of brandy in her later years. Said it was for her heart."

"Mm ... heard that one before," Alice agreed, "probably angina, brandy can relieve the symptoms, but it's not a good idea. Heart attack?"

"Aha, big one, three years ago," Mary nodded, opening up now, "dad went two years before, a stroke. His blood pressure was sky high, he was always angry, at me, at you, at mum."

"No surprises there," her sister patted her knee. "Now, the superintendant and I must be going, I'll leave you my number, evenings are the best. Let me know when the funeral is, if you don't mind me attending."

"I think I'd like that, Alice," Mary sighed, "perhaps we can start again."

Alice stood up and smiled, "I hope so, and, Jane wants to be a doctor, let her follow her dreams, she'll come home more often, if you do."

"Not run away, like you did?"

"No, that's all it would have taken, just theirs and your acceptance that I had to do something more than they envisaged for me."

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Alice was quiet on the way back to town. Matthew let her think about what had happened, though he was sure she would be relieved she and Mary could connect as sisters, and possibly as friends. Then there was the scar she had kept hidden, how would they go forward now he had seen it? Perhaps now was the time for him to open up about his childhood, life with a gambler and a drinker, the times when there was not enough money for food for all of them, and his mother would feed him and Vera and go without herself, but it didn't seem as bad as hers, he didn't have any scars from buckles or beatings, though they did happen.

"Thank you, Matthew," she suddenly spoke, "I'm glad you let me come with you."

"Do you think you and Mary will be ok?" he asked, neither looked at the other, "will you be able to talk, resolve the issues?"

"I hope so, though I am under no illusion it will be easy." She continued to stare out of the windscreen, "perhaps, if I attend the funeral..."

"You better let Ted know you are friends, or he'll be standing up for you, again," he grinned, thinking of the tale of her little champion.

"Yes, perhaps I better had."

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Alice didn't see the Blake's for the next few days so Matthew let Ted know he wasn't to worry about Mary hurting her.

"You sure, Uncle Matthew?" he frowned, "they didn't look like friends."

"Well, they've got a lot of catching up to do, so at the moment they aren't fighting," he reassured him.

"Ok, but..."

"You have our permission to help Aunty Alice, but only with words," he cautioned him against using his fists.

Satisfied with that, Ted carried on playing until bedtime.

As Jean tucked him in he asked her if it was possible to be friends with someone who had hurt you, in the past.

"I think it's possible to make friends, why?"

"Well, Uncle Matthew says Auntie Alice and her sister are friends, now, but Mary was being so horrible to her and hit her," he sat up and waited for help with his confusion.

"Auntie Alice didn't have a happy childhood," Jean wondered if she could explain. "Her mum and dad didn't want her to be a doctor, they didn't think girls should do things like that, just get married and have babies."

"That's not fair, mum," he pouted, "you wonder what Julia will be, she's a girl, you said she can do anything."

"And she can, as long as it is a good thing," Jean agreed, "it was a long time ago, Ted. In those days it wasn't unusual for girls to be expected to be mums and housewives, not have careers like being a doctor. Teachers usually stopped working when they got married, so did nurses. Mothers were expected to keep house and cook for their family."

"You do that, mum," Ted tried to process this history lesson, "but you do other things too, like the letters and stuff for dad, and the mum's group."

"I do, don't I?" Jean sometimes wondered how there were enough hours in the day to do everything.

"I think you're very clever, mum," he slid down under the covers, "night night," he yawned.

"Thank you, Ted, it's very kind of you to say so. Night night, sweetheart." She leant over and kissed his forehead, smiling.

"He's right," a soft voice whispered in her ear. "I've always thought you are the smartest one of us."

She turned and smiled, "Smart enough to bag myself the most handsome and loving doctor in the town."

"Flattery, Mrs Blake, are you after something?"

Ted opened one sleepy eye and watched them kiss, smiling. They loved each other, and weren't afraid to show it, and they loved him and Julia. He fell asleep with this happy thought.

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Alice attended her brother in law's funeral, alone. Matthew had offered but she said no, he wasn't his relative, and she had to do this, be there for Mary, see if his being at the house had any bearing on the way Mary seemed to want to make up for all the pain and heartache she had endured throughout her childhood.

Mary had ordered that their shops and the factory close for the funeral and for an hour afterwards when all the employees would be invited back to the house. Even so, it was a small gathering. After Doug's body had been committed to the ground Jane made a bee line for her aunt and fired question after question at her about university, her current work, her colleagues and all the time Mary watched.

Doug had told her it was important for Jane to find her own way in life. His own mother had been a frustrated scientist, whose interest had been dismissed out of hand because she was a woman. He didn't want that for Jane, and, like his children, he had wondered about his sister in law, he thought she must be a strong woman, but sad that her ambition had broken her relationship with her family. Mary had not understood his feelings about that, even when he said he would like to have met her, but, with Jane now exhibiting the same headstrong behaviour perhaps it was time to support, not put down, her daughter. Her son, Douglas junior, was content to continue to run the business, working his way through all departments, just as his father had done. The board would keep everything going until he was of an age to take the reins.

Mary finally had the chance to talk to Alice, suggesting to her daughter that perhaps she should let her have a break.

"Sorry about that," she sighed, "she gets a bit over enthusiastic when she finds someone who will listen to her."

"Don't apologise," Alice laughed, "she's bright, intelligent. I think she'll make a good doctor, if you'll let her train."

"How did your training go, at university?" Mary wondered, "mum always expected you to come home with your tail between your legs, or pregnant."

"It wasn't easy," Alice admitted, "there weren't many women on the course, and there aren't as many females in medicine as men, even now. It's a man's world out there, Mary, I've had to fight for everything, as a single woman; but this is not a conversation for now; we should perhaps meet for lunch, one day."

"That would be nice," Mary smiled a little.

"How are you, really?" Alice turned the conversation round, "are you sleeping properly?"

"Actually, I seem to be coping," Mary nodded, "getting through the days. I miss him, coming in and telling tales of the shops, things that have happened in the factory, of some of the things customers have said. The house seems rather big, without him."

"It's a lovely house, light," Alice thought she should say something complementary, and that was what she thought, "but it is rather large. There again, I'm used to my little bungalow and the Blake's house."

"Blake's?"

"The doctor who was in the morgue, his son is the one who, er, intervened, that day in town," she couldn't hold back the little smile at the memory of Ted coming to her aid. "They are good friends."

"Ah, yes," Mary coloured, "sorry, that was dreadfully crass of me. He was rather brave, wasn't he?"

"Yes, his birth mother and step father were abusive to him and his little sister, he can be rather protective," she replied.

"So, he's adopted?"

"Yes."

"And you, Alice, has there ever been anyone for you?"

"Fishing, Mary?" she laughed again. "There have been one or two, but nobody I wanted to settle down with, nobody that cared I had a career, anyway."

"The copper?"

"I don't know what you mean?" Alice blushed.

"Come on, Alice," Mary teased, "police superintendants don't calmly fasten blouse buttons on angry women and then wrap them in their uniform jackets, not like that, anyway."

Alice didn't know what to say, but it was true, those weren't the actions of a colleague, they were the actions of a lover.

"He's nice, gentle," Mary touched her arm, "and clearly cares for you, as a person, not just as a woman."

Alice cleared her throat and said she had better be going, before Dr Blake went off on a tangent.

As Mary watched her go she wondered more about her sister, and the missing years.

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Ted noticed Alice seemed more relaxed, happier than she had the day her sister had hit her, but he kept his eye on her. He didn't ask her about her sister and she never spoke of the incident. He knew Uncle Matthew went to her house most evenings, and sometimes came back in the morning. In his mind Uncle Matthew was protecting her from some unseen or unknown enemy but Jean and Lucien could see it was only a matter of time before they would have to explain to him that Matthew was going to live with Alice. They knew questions about whether or not they were going to get married would come up and so far they didn't have an answer for that.

"That really is up to them, to tell him as much as they want him to know, but I don't want him knowing too much," Jean sighed one evening, after Matthew had headed off to see his love.

"He'll miss him," Lucien noted, "not being here to read to or talk to. Julia too, what will she do without Maff Maff?"

"She managed 'Maffoo', today," Jean mused, "she's getting there, and a regular little chatterbox in the car and stroller."

"I think she's going to go far. She's bright, inquisitive, it's to be encouraged."

"Hmm," she agreed.

"Suppose they'll be over for dinner," he muttered, returning to the subject of his friend and colleague, "unless he teaches Alice to cook."

Jean smiled, "probably."

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Alice stood in the playground, waiting for Ted. She had asked Jean if she could pick him up, as she wanted to help him understand, about her and Mary.

"I promise I won't go into detail, Jean," she assured her over tea, "but Matthew says he is obviously worried that I could get hurt, again."

"Are you sure?" Jean was surprised, "I mean, standing with the other mothers, you'll get stared at, tongues will wag," she teased.

"Oh, it's been like that all my life, Jean," Alice took a deep breath, "I just don't usually put myself forward for it. Can I take him for an ice cream, we can chat over that?"

"Alright, he deserves a treat, anyway, top of the class in science last week," she grinned proudly.

"Indeed he does, that's wonderful," Alice laughed, "does he still want to be a policeman?"

"So far," Jean sighed.

So there she stood, with the rest of the mothers, waiting but not engaging. She could see a few looking at her, then whispering. Perhaps she should have asked Matthew to accompany her, too late now. She shrugged to herself.

"Aunty Alice!" Ted's called across the playground and he ran over to her, "Mr Mountfield said you were here today, why? Is mum ok?" worry flashed across his face.

"Mum is fine, Ted," Alice took his hand, "I thought we could talk, about Mary and me, over ice cream."

Ted's eyebrows shot up, ice cream? She could pick him up any time she wanted, he grinned, "ok."

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They sat in the little cafe, him with his ice cream and her with her tea and biscuit. She waited for him to ask a question, finding it difficult to start the conversation herself.

He looked at her, Aunty Alice was a quiet one, but she was good at listening and answering questions.

"Aunty Alice," he swallowed a spoonful of the cold treat, "why was Mary shouting at you?"

"Well, you see Ted," she began, "when I was growing up I was always trying to find things out. I liked reading and my studies, especially science and history; Mary didn't. Mary did as she was told, by our parents, I used to get stuck in a book when I should be doing my chores, or hiding in the library. My dad used to punish me for it, for not doing what little girls are supposed to do ..."

"What are they supposed to do?" Ted didn't see Julia getting told off for playing with his toys or for playing in the dirt in the garden when mum was gardening.

"When I was a little girl they were supposed to do as they were told, help in the house, learn to cook and sew, to be a good wife when they grew up." Alice watched him process this information, take another spoonful of ice cream, "not answer back, and definitely not decide they were going to be a doctor, have a career. Mary could see this, and she would blame me for things that happened, like tears in her dresses, or broken ornaments, even if they were accidents. I spent a lot of time with a sore bottom from smacks," she thought this was better than saying she had been beaten with a belt, "and getting sent to my room."

"Did Mary hit you too, when you were a little girl?"

"I'm afraid she did," Alice looked sombre, "but, Ted, I was easy to push around, my weapon was words, I argued with my parents, which was wrong and rude of me."

"But, Aunty Alice," he put his spoon in the empty bowl, "even if you shouldn't have answered back they should have let you do your studies. Mum says Julia can be what she wants to be, as long as it isn't a bank robber or something else bad. And I think mum's very clever, but people think she's a mum and a housewife."

"Your mum is very clever, Ted," Alice agreed, "anyway, Mary and I want to be friends, we don't want to fight anymore, and she has two children, one is a girl who wants to be a doctor. Mary is going to let her follow that dream, even though she is unsure that it is the right thing for Jane. I told her, that if she does let her try then Jane will come home for holidays and they won't fall out, like I did with my mum and dad."

"That sounds good," Ted nodded, "I'm glad you're friends now, Aunty Alice, I wouldn't like to fall out with Julia."

"I don't think there's any chance of that, Ted dear," Alice stood up and held out her hand, "you saved her from a horrible life, and, as she grows up, you will always look out for her, even when she tells you to leave her alone. Just remember she has to make her own mistakes, you just have to be there to give her a hug when she needs it."

"I will," he smiled, "so ... Uncle Matthew, is he looking after you because of a bad person being nasty to you?"

"Sorry, Ted?" Alice missed the inference in this innocent question.

"Well, he goes to see you in the evening," Ted skipped happily beside her as they headed to where she had parked the car, "I just thought someone else was being horrible to you."

"Oh Ted, you are a sweetie," she laughed, "me and Uncle Matthew, well, we are very good friends, and we like to have a drink together in the evening, on our own."

"He loves you," Ted remarked, kicking a stone into the road, "do you love him?"

"Protecting Uncle Matthew now, are you?" she teased.

"No, he's big enough to do that himself," Ted giggled, "but he does, love you, that is."

"Do you mind?"

"No, I'm glad," he answered honestly, "'cos mum and dad have got each other, and they kiss, a lot," he rolled his eyes, "so I thought ..." somehow, for one so young Ted realised he was overstepping the mark.

Alice also realised he must have seen Matthew kiss her, perhaps in the kitchen or in the living room, in an unguarded moment, though not as passionately as Jean and Lucien probably did. She'd never admitted to anyone, not even Matthew, that she loved him, and she blushed as she thought about it, that she had been rumbled by a six year old.

"I'm glad you don't mind, Ted," she opened the car door for him, "I do love him, I suppose, he doesn't mind that I have a career, most other men that I have known, who have asked me out, did, and wanted me to change who I am." She started the engine.

"Don't ever change, Aunty Alice," Ted whispered, "I like you the way you are, you're fun, and you answer my questions about science and stuff, when dad's not about. I like the way you tell stories about the Romans and Greeks, too." Alice had had to explain what she meant by 'Classics' once, when he asked her what she liked best at school.

"I won't," she smiled, keeping her eyes on the road, Matthew would have to make do with her as she was, fun, apparently.

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Jean noticed that Ted was perfectly happy when they arrived home. He didn't want his usual snack as he had had ice cream.

"Everything ok, Alice," she asked, "he didn't get too personal, did he?"

"No, he was very well behaved, Jean," Alice smiled, "I think he understands about me and Mary a little bit better, now."

"Good, staying for dinner?"

"I shouldn't ..." though why she didn't know.

"You haven't for ages, there's plenty," Jean peeled another potato.

"Only because you're peeling extra potatoes," Alice grinned.

"Matthew likes potatoes," Jean smirked.

"Oh well, alright, then, can I do anything?"

"Carrots, or shell the peas," Jean suggested.

"You know," she sat down and pulled the bag of peas towards her, "I haven't done this for years, it was one of my chores." She smiled, "I used to put the bowl between my feet on the floor, make a chute out of newspaper and slide the peas down it."

Jean raised her eyebrows at the image of a little Alice Harvey shelling peas down a newspaper chute into a bowl. She chuckled, then started to properly laugh,

"I suppose that's one way of doing it," Jean passed her a bowl and a piece of newspaper that she was using to wrap the peelings up in.

"Why are you laughing?" Ted wandered through to see what all the noise was about, he was followed by Julia.

"Aunty Alice's way of shelling peas." Jean giggled.

"Watch, Ted," Alice nodded him round to where she was sitting, with the bowl between her feet and the newspaper chute resting between her closed knees and ending in the bowl. She showed him how to pop the pod and roll the peas down into the bowl. He tried, and, apart from a few peas rolling over the floor, to be collected and eaten by Julia, the peas were done with giggles and squeals, that both Lucien and Matthew heard as they came in through the door.

Nobody in the kitchen heard them enter and they stood there smiling broadly at the sight before them. Lucien motioned Matthew to be silent and he tiptoed to the study to collect the camera. Just as they were finishing he got a picture of Alice and Ted, Jean at the side and Julia sitting on the floor all laughing.

The sound of the camera had Alice look up and gasp.

"Lucien! You didn't?" she couldn't get up, she would send the peas all over the floor, Jean and Matthew howled with laughter and Ted giggled. Aunty Alice was indeed, fun.


	17. Chapter 17

Robert took the toy truck off Julia. She wailed, "Mine!" Mrs Farmer heaved a big sigh. He wasn't getting any better and the other children were starting to avoid him, not even Ted who was on term break wanted to play with him. Mattie went over and sat on the floor in front of him, holding out her hand for the toy.

"Thank you, Robert," she spoke calmly but firmly, "I think you should give that to me, we don't snatch."

"No!" he held it tight, "boy toy!" He moved backwards from her.

"We share, Robert," Mattie insisted, still holding her hand out, "Julia can play with the truck if she wants to."

Julia toddled over and nestled against Nurse Mattie who put her arm round her, not taking her eyes of Robert.

Robert could sense a stand-off but he wasn't going to hand over the truck nicely, he raised his hand, and before anyone could stop him he hurled the truck towards Mattie and Julia. Mattie's free arm went up and she pushed Julia round behind her. It all seemed to happen in slow motion and Mattie felt the sharp edge of the toy hit her above her eye then heard it clatter to the floor.

"Mattie!" Jean rushed over, followed by Ted who took his sister over to the toy box, out of the way. Blood was running down the side of Mattie's face.

"Oh my goodness!" Mrs Farmer went to smack her boy but Mattie stopped her.

"No, don't!" she called over.

"Mattie," Jean helped her up, "let's get this cut seen to."

"Mrs Farmer, would you bring Robert into the surgery please," Mattie held out her hand as Jean guided her away.

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Jean cleaned the cut and dressed it, hoping it wouldn't scar. Mattie indicated Mrs Farmer take a seat and when Jean left to see to the other mothers and children she spoke to the thoroughly embarrassed woman.

"Mrs Farmer," she sat back in her chair, "when I attended the first meeting you said Robert was bad with his sisters, that his father was delighted to have a son, after three girls. Tell me about it."

"Well ... are you sure you're alright?"

"Fine, go on," Mattie ignored the stinging and burgeoning headache.

"...I suppose Bob spoils him. He spends a lot of time with him, more than he ever did with the girls." She stared ahead of her, "Robert has his own toy box, full of cars and trucks, a rugby ball ... and the girls don't really play with them or him. They have their dolls and tea sets, the younger two play together, but Anne, being twelve is more interested in her books."

"How do the girls feel about having a little brother?"

"At first they were delighted, and when he was still small enough for them to fuss over it was fine. They used to take him out for a walk in the pram but, as he has become more of a boy and less of a baby ... he is hard for them to handle." She sighed and slumped into the chair, "I suppose they try not to be around him, much." She looked at Mattie's pale face, "what do I do, Nurse? Why is he like this? When he starts school, he's going to get into so much trouble."

"Well, Mrs Farmer, there could be several reasons Robert behaves this way, towards girls, but we need to change his opinion, if we can, about them. It will have to be a whole family thing, including your husband." Mattie leant forward, her elbows on her knees. "I suggest you move any of the breakable toys the girls have, tea sets?"

"They are pot," Mrs Farmer confirmed her suspicions.

"Right, I had the same," Mattie smiled, "any way, have a mixed toy box. Some of Robert's toys some of the girls' and a play session, just half an hour, where they play together. Now, Robert isn't going to like them touching his cars so you will have to join in, at first. Perhaps have a little race, with the cars, get one of the girls to use a doll to start the race. Robert must win on his own merits, and if he doesn't like losing be prepared for a scene. Keep it simple and short, make it routine, two or three times a week." She watched for a reaction. Mrs Farmer was listening, she was so worried about her son she was willing to try anything.

"Now, do you bake, Mrs Farmer?"

"Yes, the girls love to make cakes and biscuits," she smiled, it was one of her favourite times to spend with her daughters.

"Right, well, it's time for Robert to join in, men make very good bakers," Mattie remembered Jean saying once that her boys loved to help with making biscuits and Ted enjoyed doing the same. "Pastry and biscuits, something he can work himself. You know it's going to be messy, but cook whatever he makes and then, perhaps he'd like to share with his father."

"What do I tell his father?"

"Remind him that Robert is going to have to be around girls and that his behaviour is not acceptable. You can tell him that he threw a car and cut my head, just because he was asked to let a girl play with a toy truck. What things does he do with Robert? You said he spends a lot of time with him."

"Woodwork, ball games in the garden, tinkering in the shed."

"Time for the girls to join in with that. There's nothing wrong with girls playing cricket."

"I suppose I need to get us altogether," Mrs Farmer sighed, "explain. Thank you, Nurse O'Brien, for not being angry with Robert."

"Yes, well, perhaps he just needs setting on the right path, but," she turned to the little boy, standing, sulking beside his mother, "Robert, look at me," she tipped his head, "you cannot throw toys like that. You have cut my head, it hurt. If you throw toys or snatch from other children, again, I will take the toy away. We share toys here, boys and girls, we do not throw or snatch, understand?" She knew it would take several reminders before he got the idea, but she was prepared to be patient, she just hoped the family could be. She also hoped that it was just the way his father was with him and not some part of the autistic spectrum.

Robert returned her gaze, biting his lip. Mattie thought she had made an impression on him.

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While Mattie was in the surgery Ted was showing all the children how to race the cars along the floor and how to make towers out of bricks that the babies who were crawling could knock down. Some of the mothers were helping keep the children occupied and chatting amongst themselves. When Jean came out he looked up and smiled.

"Is Nurse Mattie ok, mum?"

"Yes, Ted," she smiled back, "she'll be fine. Thank you for looking after Julia and the other children."

"Ok," he returned to building another tower.

"Now, ladies," Jean turned to the women, "I think Robert should be allowed to continue to attend. Nurse O'Brien will be keeping a close eye on him. He has a lot to learn, and I am sure you wouldn't want him to go to school without the correct rules in place."

"Oh, Mrs Blake, I mean," Mrs Stevens gasped, "he's dangerous around the babies."

"And if we don't show him how to behave he will continue to be so." Jean replied, firmly. "This group is supposed to support mothers and children; Mrs Farmer and Robert need our support."

"I have been speaking to Mrs Farmer," Mattie came out with the mother and child in question, "and ..."

"Nurse O'Brien has been very generous with her time and ideas to help me with Robert." Mrs Farmer stepped in, in spite of her embarrassment, "she has given me some ideas for ways the family can help him. I don't want him to grow up a woman hater, I need your help ladies, as well as Nurse O'Brien's and my family's. Robert needs your help," she added the last quietly. Admitting you had trouble with your children, Mattie thought, was hard, she had taken a big step in that moment.

"Come on, Robert," Ted went up to him and took his hand, "come and help me build towers, not too high, the babies like to knock them down, 'specially Julia."

In his mind, if Aunty Alice and her sister could get along, then maybe he could get along with Robert, if he tried.

"Thank you, Ted," Mrs Farmer smiled, "that's very kind of you, isn't it Robert?" She looked seriously at her son who followed Ted, obediently.

The rest of the session continued with the mothers keeping an eye on Robert, waiting for him to get angry again, but he didn't. Mattie was under no illusion that he would have many more 'moments' and she wondered if she should schedule a home visit. She would speak to Lucien later.

At the end of the session, Ted, who was used to putting his toys away, chivvied the children to help him, giving Robert things to put in the box, not just the cars, but coloured rings, a couple of small dolls and the rag books.

Jean smiled at her son, he was completely in charge of the other children and they seemed to enjoy being with him. It was a change, he was usually at school and Jean had thought he might go and sit in his bedroom, perhaps read one of his books or do some puzzles, but he was quite happy to play, it would appear. Perhaps an apple pie was in order, for dinner.

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When Lucien came home for lunch he had a look at Mattie, checking her for any untoward after effects.

"Just a bit of a headache, Lucien," she blinked into the torch light, "I'll be fine."

"I'm sure you will, Nurse," he teased, "but, how about a lie down before surgery, eh?"

"I don't think that's necessary," she smiled, "and it's quite a long list today."

"No, I insist," he patted her cheek, "now, Jean will come and call you in time for work."

"Do you think I should make a home visit?" she changed the subject, "perhaps see how it really is at home."

"Not on your own," Lucien didn't think Bob Farmer would take kindly to a young, single and childless woman telling him how to bring up his son, "see how it goes for the next couple of weeks; if nothing changes I'll book a visit and come with you."

"Alright, if you think that's best," she sighed.

"I do. I like the advice you have given, but we need to see how that works first," he stood and offered her his hand, "now, have something to eat and then lie down until surgery. That's an order ... from your boss!"

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Ted and Julia spent the afternoon playing in the garden, occasionally going into the waiting room to see if they could have a drink, and so that Ted could check up on Nurse Mattie. The lie down had done the trick, Lucien said it was probably just shock, but if the headache came back she was to let him know.

They continued to discuss Robert over dinner, praising Ted for being so kind and helping with the children.

"Mum," Ted thought about the boy, "d'ye think, that if he doesn't play nice he'll do what Terry did to me, to the girls?"

"I don't know, sweetheart, I suppose he might," Jean was beginning to think Ted was wise way beyond his years. Too serious, too concerned about those around him. "Don't you worry about it though, Nurse Mattie will sort him out."

Lucien, too, noticed Ted looking after the hurt people in his life, perhaps a little holiday, away from home was called for. He'd have to discuss it with Jean later. There was another ten days of the term break, another full seven days before the next group session.

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While Jean put Ted to bed Lucien took the opportunity to talk to Mattie, as, taking Jean and the children away for a few days would impact on her.

"Sounds like a good idea," Mattie accepted the sherry, "but, make sure you go to a hotel, Jean deserves a break too."

"Right, I was thinking of somewhere on the coast, take Ted to the beach," he smiled, "sandcastles, that kind of thing."

"For Jean or Ted," Mattie giggled.

"Jean, of course," he laughed with her, "but you would have to take most of the surgeries, would you be alright with that?"

"Fine, but perhaps a doctor for a couple," she thought for a moment, "would Alice, do you think?"

"Maybe," he considered the doctor taking his surgeries again, most of the patients had been quite happy with her last time, "I'll ask her. She usually does police surgeon duties as well."

"Mmm..." Mattie nodded, "perhaps she'd better move in, just for the time, that is." She grinned, cheekily.

"Well, you'll have to chaperone them, then," Lucien smirked ...

"Chaperone who?" Jean came out of the bedroom just in time to catch the last part of the conversation.

"Matthew and Alice," his face straight, solemn, "can't have any of that kind of thing going on, you know," he winked, "bad for business."

"Why on earth would they need chaperoning? it's a bit late for that," Jean huffed.

"I was just thinking we should take the kids away for a few days," he handed her a sherry, "you need a break too. That would leave Mattie to do the surgeries and Alice for police surgeon and some surgeries that Mattie can't do."

"I suggested she move in, just for the time being, while you are away," Mattie grinned, "then he got silly."

"What brought this on?" Jean sat on the couch next to Lucien, "why the sudden idea we should take a holiday?"

"Ted, really," he put his arm over the back of the couch, "he's too solemn, at the moment, too much going on that he worries about ... keeping Alice safe, making sure Robert doesn't hurt other children ..."

"I was beginning to worry about him, that way," Jean admitted, "he's too serious, he's only six, he shouldn't have to feel he has to protect everybody."

"True, but he's been doing it for so long ..."

"Alright, where?"

"Good, I thought the coast, a beach holiday, back in time for the next session with the mothers, would that suit you?"

"Sounds lovely, haven't been to the beach since Adelaide," she coloured a little. She and Lucien had walked on the beach that time she had left to look after Amelia and he had followed. They never spoke of the plans they had started to make there, the plans that had all gone up in smoke when Mei Lin had reappeared.

"Right, so, shall I look for somewhere?"

"Not too far away, we don't want to waste time travelling," she noted.

"Ok, how about Torquay? under two hours if the road's clear" he suggested, "or Queenscliff?"

"Torquay, I think, but as it's a late booking, wherever you can find, I'll leave it up to you," she smiled.

"I'll pop down to the travel shop tomorrow, then," he sipped his whisky, "then I can see if Alice is amenable to standing in for me, and let Matthew know he will be answerable to Nurse O'Brien."

"Oh no you don't," Mattie laughed, "keep me out of it!"

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Lucien was relieved to find he could get them into a small hotel in Torquay, one that would cope with a toddler and provide a cot and a highchair. Now all he had to do was to ask Alice if she minded filling in for him, again.

She looked at him, over the table in the morgue, arms folded, unsmiling.

"Sudden, isn't it?" she mused.

"Yes, well, sorry, but ..." he tried to gauge her mood, but one could never tell with Alice even if she did seem to have mellowed somewhat, over the months since they had come back from their honeymoon. "We're a bit worried about Ted," he sighed, "he's so solemn, always protecting Julia and you and anyone who he thinks is likely to get hurt. He was looking after the children, yesterday, during the group session ... one of the boys ..."

"Matthew did say something about him taking charge after Mattie got hurt," Alice took a step forward. "Something about a child hurling a toy car at her."

"Yes, young Robert, some behaviour issues, Mattie's trying to sort it. Anyway, we thought a break, somewhere on the coast, so ..."

"... you've booked it already, haven't you?"

"Er, yes, we'll only be away five days, you won't have to do the mother and baby group, and you will have Mattie," he was relieved she seemed to be warming to the idea. "Feel free to take one of the spare rooms, if it would make it easier for you."

Alice hid her smile at the offer of one of the spare rooms, in spite of the fact he knew, as did Jean, that she didn't have a spare room, so unless Matthew was sleeping on the couch ...

"That's very kind of you," she smiled, "alright, I'll do it. Have you told Matthew, yet?"

"Next on the list, thought I'd better ask you first," he put his hand on the door handle, "then I can tell him he doesn't have to find a locum."

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"Matthew!" he called as he entered the office, heading to the desk and sitting in his usual seat. "Want to take the family away for a few days, Alice is willing to take up the slack."

"Oh, right," Matthew stuttered, "when?"

"Heading to Torquay tomorrow," Lucien grinned, "five days. Kids on the beach, let Ted have some fun."

"Do him good," Matthew agreed, much to Lucien's surprise, he expected a bit of a huff and bluster.

"Yeah, Alice is going to be my locum," he grinned, "Mattie will do the other surgery as usual."

"Ok, chat about it later," Matthew picked up the file he had been reading.

"Good oh!"

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After dinner, Mattie offered to put the children to bed, so she didn't have to be anywhere near the others when Lucien told Matthew he would be answerable to her.

"Don't know what you mean," Matthew rolled his eyes.

"Yes you do," Jean teased, but declined to go into detail and looked at her husband to stop him getting in too deep.

"We haven't told Ted, thought we'd surprise him," he turned to Jean, "did you get him any bathers?"

"And Julia," she smiled.

"Now, what about you?" Lucien had a twinkle in his eye.

Matthew cleared his throat and stood up, "think I'll go for a walk."

Jean giggled, "you'll have to wait and see, but I did get some for you, too."

"Right, ok," he walked right into that one. "packing?"

"When you were holding surgery, the children were outside, so their stuff is packed, and most of ours," she sipped her drink, "just the toiletries, really."

"Good, so ..."

"We don't have to rush off, but we will have time to stop along the way, if they get fidgety." She wriggled against him as she heard Mattie call 'goodnight', and head upstairs.

"Early, for her," Lucien mused.

Jean looked at him and shook her head.

"Think I'll have an early night, too," she wriggled again, "lock up when you come to bed, doubt Matthew will be back."

"Uh? Oh, yes, right," he took the glasses to the kitchen, "won't be long."

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Jean was just coming out of the bathroom when he went into the bedroom, she smiled and as she passed him, on the way to the bed, he took hold of her arm and pulled her into a deep kiss.

"Mmm... " she hummed, "hello, handsome doctor."

"Good evening, Mrs Blake," he smiled back, "what can I do for you?"

"Oh, I don't know," she shrugged her shoulders, "perhaps ..." she looked up at him, coyly, through her lashes and took his hand, placing it so it cupped her breast.

"I see," he raised his eyebrows, "well, perhaps I'd better scrub up for the operation."

"Quite, doctor," she drifted away from him, dropping her robe onto the end of the bed, revealing the gorgeous creamy skin on her slender, naked, body.

He stood in the bathroom positively aching for her while he cleaned his teeth and divested himself of his suit, and shirt and tie and ... he really should change into something more casual in the evenings!

He grabbed his robe, took a deep breath; he didn't want to seem too eager, she had set a gentle pace; and wandered out of the bathroom, casually sauntered up to the bed where she was lying with just the sheet covering her. The outline of her body was clear to see.

"Now, Mrs Blake," he whispered, "where were we?"

She pulled the sheet aside with one hand and slid the other over her breast, "about here, I think, doctor," she breathed.

Tonight was going to be one of those nights where they took their time to enjoy each other, taste and touch before the final act. He could practically hear her heartbeat as he nipped and sucked at her and she ran her fingers over his shoulders and down his back. When he finally entered her it was with a reverence and love she had never known before, with Christopher, and she responded, moving with him slowly at first then rising and bucking until she called his name into his shoulder, not wanting to wake the children, arching her back in release then falling back onto the bed. Lucien loved seeing her completely undone and rolled over, taking her with him before he took his final thrust and spilled into her, groaning her name,

"Jean, my Jeannie," he ran his hands up her sides and pulled her down onto him, to drape over him like the softest blanket.

She wriggled up his chest and kissed him, "I do love you, Lucien, so much."

He kissed her forehead, and pulled the sheet over them, "how did I ever get this lucky?" he whispered.

She smiled into his chest, she always thought she was the lucky one, that he chose her over Mei Lin, over other women that fluttered their eyelashes at him, yes, she was definitely the lucky one.

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"You enjoy yourselves," Mattie passed Jean the flask of tea, "go and build sandcastles and paddle in the sea," she looked down at Ted who was watching the comings and goings of his parents. He was quite excited, after they had told him over breakfast they were going to the beach for a few days, but ...

"Nurse Mattie," he touched her hip, "you won't let Robert hurt you, or anyone else, will you?"

"Oh Ted," she squatted down in front of him, "Robert won't be here before you get back, love, don't you worry about him. You are to have fun, and play and not worry about a thing, do you hear?" She added in mock severity. "I've got Uncle Matthew to look after me ... and Aunty Alice. We'll be fine."

"Ok," he accepted her kiss to his cheek and went to see if there was anything he should do, for his father.

"Go and get a book, so mum or I can read to you at night," Lucien suggested, "and maybe some of Julia's rag books."

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Mattie waved them off, smiling. They deserved this break, they both worked extremely hard. She turned into the house and headed to the study to do some more research into children's behaviour. She knew there would be surgery that afternoon, Alice would be there for that, then ... who knew what the evening held. She had managed to catch up with some old friends since she had returned to Ballarat, so she might see if anyone wanted to meet for a drink or a coffee, perhaps the cinema, if there was anything good on.

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Last time they had gone away they had taken the train, this time it would be a long journey in the car, mum and dad had warned him about that, but, they did say that if he needed a break, the lavatory or to stretch his legs they would find somewhere along the way.

He sat looking out of the window, watching the countryside go by, and gradually dozed off. Through the rear view mirror, Lucien could see him and smiled.

"Ted's dropped off," he whispered to Jean. She turned round,

"... and Julia."

He turned the radio on, just low, and carried on driving.

"We should get a fair way before we have to have a break," she leant back in the seat, "perhaps an early lunch?"

"Mm," he agreed, "I'll look out for somewhere, about twelve-ish."

"That should do it."

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"There," Jean pointed to a small cafe as they drove through a small town, "that should do, at least a sandwich, and the loo."

Lucien swung the car to stop at the side of the street. The motion disturbed both children, Ted yawned and stretched,

"are we there?"

"Just stopping for something to eat, darling," Jean turned round, "freshen up."

"Ok. Mum," he wriggled, "I need ..."

"Not surprised," she got out and opened the door for him, "come on, dad'll get Julia, she'll need changing. Let's see to you first."

Lucien watched her head into the cafe and speak to the owner, then head into the back. He lifted the sleepy baby out of her seat and picked up the basket with her things in. Jean had said that though she was almost dry during the day, it wasn't likely she would make the journey so she had put her in a nappy and a spare in the basket.

They had a pleasant lunch, all freshly made, the cafe was the local baker's as well, and the meat in the sandwiches was from the butchers. They decided to have a short stroll before starting the second half of the journey, thinking the children would get bored in the car. There wasn't much in the town, more of a hamlet really, but it was nice to be able to stretch their legs.

"Shall we head off, again?" Lucien asked as they came to the end of the main street. "We should have time for a walk on the beach before dinner if we do."

"I think so," Jean agreed, "also I don't want the children sleeping too much more, they won't settle tonight."

"Are we going now, mum, dad," Ted asked eagerly, "to the beach."

"We are going to go and find our hotel, then we should be able to go to the beach for a little walk," Lucien ruffled his hair, "you can play on the beach tomorrow, build sandcastles and such like."

"Will you show me how, dad?" Ted swung their joined hands, "I've never been to the beach before."

"That I will, and rock pooling," he grinned down at him.

Ted's eyes widened, he didn't know what rock pooling was but if dad was going to show him it would be fun, even exciting.

Jean smiled, she wondered if the young Lucien had ever been to the beach with Thomas and Genevieve, had he built sandcastles and gazed into rock pools?

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The rest of the journey passed off without incident, Ted gazed out of the window but sat relatively still, occasionally pointing something out to Julia to keep her occupied, she didn't like being confined to her seat for long periods of time, just like she didn't want to get in the stroller.

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The hotel was small but clean and bright. They had adjoining rooms with a connecting door, the bathroom was just down the hall but there were sinks in the bedrooms. There was a cot squeezed into the smaller room with a single bed. It was enough for the two children, they didn't need the play space they had at home.

Ted helped them unpack while Julia toddled around looking into everything, exploring. She pushed her little toy dog through the bars of the cot ready for bed time. Jean hoped she wouldn't try to take it to the beach, she took it most places with her at home.

There was plenty of time before dinner so Jean and Lucien thought a short walk, show the children the beach, have a wander round to see where they could get a bucket and spade, at least, perhaps a beach ball.

"Shall we leave the stroller behind?" Lucien suggested, "she's been kept strapped into a chair for most of the day."

"I think so," Jean agreed, "you can always carry her if she gets tired."

"Off we go then," he locked the bedroom door behind them and "let's see what Torquay has to offer."

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Torquay had plenty to offer for Ted and Julia's first trip to the beach. They found somewhere to purchase buckets and spades, a small one for Julia, a brightly coloured beach ball and a kite, that Lucien said they could fly if there was enough wind.

The walk from the hotel to the beach was not too long, they would need the stroller, probably to get Julia back at the end of the day, and the hotel were more than happy to make a picnic for the days they would spend out and about.

Jean told Ted to take of his shoes and socks while she took Julia's off and he wriggled his toes in the sand. He giggled, it tickled and was warm. Julia crawled in it, pushing her hands into the sand and lifting them up to let it fall through her fingers. She tried eating it, but instantly spat it out. Jean laughed and put the shoes and socks in a neat pile. She pulled her shoes off, showing she wasn't wearing socks or stockings under her slacks, and suggested Lucien roll his trousers up and take his off too.

"You've some shorts in the hotel," she grinned, "for tomorrow and any time we're on the beach."

"Jean!" he gasped, "really? No!"

"Oh yes," she laughed at the look on his face, "you wear them in the garden, you can wear them on the beach." He had a fine pair of calves she didn't mind seeing any time.

"And you?" he raised his eyebrows, "are you wearing shorts?"

"I will be suitably dressed for the beach, Lucien," she replied, giving him a look that told him not to push his luck. In truth, she had packed herself light summer dresses that she could easily wear her swimsuit underneath.

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Surgery went off smoothly and Mattie and Alice had time for a cuppa while comparing notes.

"Jean's left a casserole for dinner, enough for three," Mattie noted, casually, "you stopping?"

"Oh, er, well," Alice blushed, "I suppose it wouldn't hurt."

"Good, I'll do the veggies, then," Mattie took her cup to the sink and hid a small smile while she washed up.

"Can I help, I can peel, if you want," it was what she did when Matthew cooked at her house, and they had both been working.

"Ok," Mattie passed her the bowls and a knife, and the two sat with the radio playing, peeling and slicing.

"Did Jean teach you to cook?" Alice asked, not feeling it was something the young nurse would have taken much interest in.

"Mmm," Mattie hummed, "before I left for England, we used to do this often, I guess I just absorbed some of the recipes. It meant I didn't starve when I was away. Hospital food, even for the staff, is never that wonderful."

"Not when you're used to Jean's cooking," Alice remarked.

"No," Mattie looked at her. She knew Alice had been offered a room, while the Blake's were away, and wondered if she would find it embarrassing to take up the offer, with her there. She stood up and went to the hall table and opened the little drawer. There it was, Charlie's key. Perhaps ...

"Alice," she sat down again, "as you are doing surgeries for Lucien, perhaps this would be useful. That way I don't have to worry if I'm late or on call ..." she pushed the key across the table, 'you can let yourself in."

"Oh, yes, I suppose that is a good idea."

"I'm going to see some old friends, from my days as a district nurse, tonight," Mattie concentrated on the potatoes, "don't know what time I'll be back."

Alice didn't answer, even she could see what Mattie was doing, giving her and Matthew the space they usually had at her house. And Lucien had said she could use one of the rooms ... it was just that, if she did, stay, it wouldn't be one of the empty rooms she would be using. When she had told Matthew, in a private moment in the morgue, that she had been offered a room, he had grinned, she had slapped his arm and smirked as he left.

Rather than be so obvious as to pack her suitcase and take it with her to surgery, she had left it in her hall, then phoned Matthew.

"Right ..." he had a key to her place, his bedroom was out of sight of the kitchen, nothing unusual for him to go straight there, to change out of his uniform when he got 'home' at night ... perhaps they should have worked in Intelligence?

She had told herself it was just in case; just in case surgery ran on, or it rained or it got late or ... but, in reality ...

She sighed.

"Alice?"

"Hm?" she turned to Mattie, "oh nothing." She continued clearing up the peelings.

"It's ok, you know," Mattie's voice was soft, gentle, "it doesn't go beyond these walls," then she blushed at offering an older colleague the chance to sleep with her lover. She stood up to put the veggies on the stove, "and, as I said, I shall be out this evening."

Mattie knew she could have overstepped the mark, but she had known Matthew for a long time, and he seemed happier, lighter, than the last time she had seen him, so she could turn a blind eye to some 'shenanigans,' ...if Alice was the reason ...

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Ted lay in his bed watching the light play across Julia's toy in the cot. It had been fun, at the beach, the previous day. Today, he hoped they would spend more time there, playing, using the toys mum and dad had picked up. He couldn't hear anything from his parents' room so they were probably still asleep, but he was too excited to sleep. He got up and pulled the curtain open just enough to look out of the window. There was nobody about in the street below, the beach in the distance was empty as far as he could make out, so it was still early. As he watched, wondering about sandcastles and rock pools, kites and beach balls, the milk wagon, drove by, stopping every now and then for the man to put bottles on steps. He grinned to himself, it was just such a thing that had brought him to this wonderful life he now had, a milk bottle and a loaf of bread. He put his forearms along the sill and rested his chin on his hands, content to watch the town wake up.

As he watched Julia stirred and grumbled, as she always did in the mornings.

"Mornin' Ju," he stood by the cot, "want mama?"

"Mama," she reached through the bars, "peas."

He giggled then went to the door, and decided he should knock before he went through. The door hadn't been fully closed and through the gap he could just see his parents sitting in bed, drinking tea.

"Come through, Ted," Lucien called.

"Julia's awake, mum," he stood by the bed, "she wants you, mum."

Jean slid out of bed and grabbed her robe, then went to get her daughter and start the day.

"Are we going to the beach, dad?" his eyes lit up with hope and enthusiasm.

"Indeed we are, son," Lucien ruffled his hair then lifted him onto the bed, "what do you want to do when we get there?"

"Sandcastles, rock pools, the kite," he grinned, "can we fly the kite? How do we do it?"

"So many questions," Lucien laughed, "there needs to be some wind for the kite, so we'll see. First, wash, dress and breakfast."

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And so, for Ted the five days flew. Each morning, after breakfast, Jean would lift the basket of towels and spare bits of clothing they may need for the day; the hotel prepared a picnic, full of all the things they liked, and they would walk down to the beach. Ted couldn't believe he could run around outside in, what to him were, his undershorts, a pair of blue swimming trunks Jean had brought him, much the same as Lucien's. Julia toddled around in a blue beach romper suit, with pretty white daisies printed on it. Lucien couldn't believe his luck seeing Jean in a swimsuit, a halter neck, with a ruched front panel, and in green, his favourite colour for her. Jean, for her part, could unashamedly admire her husband's calves, strong back and the sight of his slightly softer stomach, too many biscuits, she thought. He didn't even seem to mind that everyone on the beach could see the scars from the camp, he was so much more comfortable in his skin than he had been, and that was all down to the love Jean had for him, and his happy home life.

They introduced the children to paddling in the sea. They squealed as the cool waves lapped over their feet, filled their buckets to pour water into the moats round the sandcastles they built, the holes they dug in the sand. Jean and the children buried Lucien, leaving just his head showing. He pretended to be pinned down then suddenly broke free for the sand and, roaring, chased Ted down the beach, screaming and laughing. When he caught him he lifted him high above his head then swung him round, freer than he had been for years.

Jean took Julia into the sea. She stood waist deep and held her gently while she splashed and giggled. Too young to be afraid of the water, of drowning, she let Jean pull her through the water, a little, by her hands.

"Will you do that with me, dad?" Ted watched them. So far he'd only gone knee deep into the water.

"Come on, then," Lucien took his hand and walked him 'til he was knee deep, then helped him as he took him deeper.

At first Ted clung onto his father, but as the five days wore on he gained in confidence, enough to try and kick while Lucien held his hands. Lucien took the beach ball and held Ted's hand round it, using it as a float. By the last morning Ted was happy to hang onto Lucien's neck while he swam, even if he did get water in his mouth and up his nose. Lucien thought it would be a good idea to take him to the swimming baths at home and teach him to swim, properly. Perhaps Jean would bring Julia and, young as she was, teach her too. Holidays at the beach would be on the cards for some years, he thought.

Jean had much the same thoughts about Julia, that taking her swimming would be a good idea.

They managed to fly the kite on a couple of occasions, Lucien told Ted they could take it to the park on windy days if he'd like to. His eyes lit up with joy.

They found rock pools with tiny crabs in, dragged little nets through the water and examined their finds, before putting them back in the water. Jean and Lucien let the small creatures crawl over the children's hands, carefully watching Julia, who still had the tendency to put everything new into her mouth.

On the last morning, as they tidied the things away Jean saw Lucien looking around him. There had been regular beach goers they had talked to, the children had played with their children, perhaps he wanted to say good bye. As she folded the last towel Lucien and a man they had seen most days came up to her, she could hear Lucien thanking him for something,

"Jean, could you stop what you're doing for a moment, Ted, Julia ..."

"What is it Lucien?" she was puzzled.

"We've taken photos over the week but there's always one of us missing so John, here, is willing to take a family shot for us," he grinned.

"Lucien," she smoothed down the front of her swimsuit, "no."

"Jean," he muttered, "I have few photos of my childhood, and certainly none like this, and it would be a nice way to remember our first family holiday."

She looked at him, it was important to him, and, yes, he was right. Who else was going to see her in a swimsuit? Only family, maybe the household, but that was it.

John suggested they arrange themselves on the rock close by, the children in front and took two or three shots which he hoped the doctor and his wife would like.

"Thanks John," Lucien took the camera back, "enjoy the rest of your holiday."

"No worries, doc, nice to have met you, Mrs Blake," he nodded and wandered off to continue building sandcastles with his three boys.

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They spent their final afternoon wandering through the town, after dropping the picnic basket and beach things off at the hotel. Jean thought it would be a kindness and polite to get a small gift for Mattie and Alice, to thank them for holding the fort, at least. The children were treated to an ice cream, which Julia obligingly dribbled down her chin and the front of her dress. Jean wiped her face with her handkerchief, smiling and shaking her head.

They found pretty scarves for both ladies which Ted chose, with a little help from his mother. Ted wanted to find something for Matthew, he said it wasn't fair to leave him out but gifts for Superintendants were thin on the ground.

"Uncle Matthew has lots of keys, dad," Ted tipped his head to one side in thought.

"He does," Lucien smiled, "there are some key rings over there, how about you choose one." He wasn't sure whether Matthew needed a key ring, but if Ted chose one, he would at least keep it in view, for a while.

Ted found one shaped like a sandcastle and so it was purchased. Happy, they left the shop and headed back to the hotel, to freshen up for dinner then Jean would put the children to bed, after a quick bath, and pack the things they wouldn't need the following day.

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As Jean and Lucien lay in bed she cuddled against him.

"This was a lovely idea, darling" she murmured, "the children have had a lovely time, so have I ..."

"... and me. It wasn't something my parents did with me," he kissed the top of her head, "I think we'll have to do it again, make up for lost time."

"I like that idea," she yawned, "I'm pretty sure the children will, too."

He pulled her down under the covers and held her as she slept, his eyes closing, a contented smile on his face.

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So, back to Ballarat.


	18. Chapter 18

Surgeries over the five days the family were away would have gone quite smoothly, if it hadn't been for Bob Farmer storming up to the surgery demanding to see that slip of a girl who thought she could tell him how to bring up his son.

It was Alice who intercepted him, in the waiting room. He was making so much noise, pacing back and too in the small space, blustering about 'young people these days', that she had to excuse herself from her patient and go to see to the matter. Mattie was in the study, weighing a baby whose first-time mother was rather nervous and she couldn't really leave her.

"Is there a problem here?" Alice stood upright in the door way, her no nonsense tone silencing the irate parent. She was much smaller than he, but that didn't diminish the impact she had on him.

"That child you have working here ..."

"I believe child labour is against the law, Mr... ?" she raised an impeccably plucked eyebrow.

"Farmer, Bob Farmer," he seethed, bloody woman was going to be difficult.

"Mr Farmer." Alice continued, "now, how can I help you?"

"Who are you?" he looked down his nose at her, but she wasn't sure if that was sneering or because he was so tall and well built.

"Dr Harvey, I am taking surgery while Dr Blake is away." She wasn't going to give an inch.

"That girl, the one who does the baby stuff ..."

"I assume you are referring to Nurse O'Brien," she offered, archly. "Well, if you would care to take a seat, I will fit you in after I've seen the other patients." She turned on her heel and headed back into the consulting room where she apologised profusely to her current patient.

Completely blindsided by Alice's professional attitude he sat down in the nearest chair and looked around at the other patients. He'd come this far and was not about to back down in front of two women. The other patients looked at him with nothing less than pure disdain. They decided he was rude and not worth conversing with, so ignored him. He sat there for nearly an hour while the others disappeared through the door, then returned, sometimes smiling, and left.

Alice had made sure Mattie was aware that it was young Robert's father that was causing the upset and suggested she keep out sight.

"I gathered as much," Mattie grimaced, "obviously doesn't like the idea of his son playing with his sisters and doing a little bit of baking with his mum."

"Doesn't Ted bake with Jean?"

"Yes, and I believe Jack and Christopher did," Mattie agreed, "now, I've finished my list, how's yours going?"

"One more, then I'm done," she smiled, "except for the charming Mr Farmer."

Mattie grinned at her sarcasm and watched her leave to deal with a set of stitches that needed removing.

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The 'charming' Mr Farmer had been seething for over an hour when Alice asked him to join her and Mattie in the consulting room.

"Right," he started, loud and angry, "you have no right tell me and my wife how to raise our children." He jabbed his finger towards Mattie.

"Actually," Mattie smiled, "it's not the children, per se, I believe the girls are quite well behaved, it's Robert."

"He's my son, I'm going to raise him to be a man," he snarled.

"A man who has no respect for women," she pushed her hands into her pockets. "He took the truck off Julia Blake because it was, in his words, a 'boy toy,' and then he threw it at me." She took a handkerchief out of her pocket and wiped off the makeup she had used to hide the cut and the bruise.

He sucked in a short breath, his wife had told him what Robert had done but he hadn't expected such a colourful result.

"Now," Mattie continued before he could make excuses, "Robert cannot continue to behave this way. Your wife is concerned he will have trouble at school, get into trouble for fighting, particularly with girls."

"He's got sisters ..."

"I think, Mr Farmer, it would be in Robert's interests if you booked an appointment, perhaps with Dr Blake, he'll be back in a couple of days, and Nurse O'Brien," Alice interrupted, "you and your wife, perhaps the girls too ..."

"Why on earth would we do that?" He huffed.

'Because," Alice sighed, he was so pig headed, she thought, "this is a whole family problem."

"It's not a problem," his voice started to get louder.

"It is when he throws things and hurts people," Alice countered, "suppose that car had hit one of the babies, eh? What then? Nurse O'Brien was lucky she managed to deflect it and it hit her eyebrow, not her eye. Now," she turned round for the diary, "we have a space on Wednesday, four o'clock in the afternoon, shall I pencil you in?" She sat with her pencil poised and her eyebrows raised, and, getting no reply, "good," she wrote it down, "perhaps, Nurse O'Brien, you could let Mrs Farmer know. Robert is down for a check up tomorrow, in your clinic."

"Of course, Dr Harvey," Mattie smiled, "I'd be happy to."

"I think that's all, then, Mr Farmer," Alice stood and held out her hand, "so nice to have met you."

He shook her hand and left, not sure what had just happened. Mattie grinned and watched him go, from the hall.

"Well," she turned to Alice, "I wonder if they'll turn up."

"I have no idea," Alice shrugged her shoulders, "but, as that's it for today, it must be time for tea."

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Alice looked at Matthew and smiled. She had relented and stayed for the duration of Lucien's absence, but today, she was going to go back home, to her one bedroom bungalow, that he occasionally; well more than occasionally; arrived at and stayed.

"We can't," she sighed, "it wouldn't be fair on Jean and Lucien."

"Everybody knows, love," he sat on the edge of the bed, "nobody seems to care."

"To your face," she sat next to him and held his hand, "but we are talked about, or I am, anyway."

"No? I'm sorry, Alice, I should have known," he lifted her hand and kissed the knuckles, "but they've stopped gossiping about Jean, well nearly, so I suppose ..."

"...they have to twitter about someone, and who better than Alice Harvey, 'twas ever thus, dear Matthew," she leant her head on his shoulder, "I'm used to it, but I am also mindful you are the Superintendant of Police here, and I wouldn't want it to reflect badly on you."

"We've talked about this," she could be so frustrating at times, "and how we can stop that ..."

".. you know how I feel, I like things the way they are," she knew deep down she was close to breaking on this subject, "and although these few days have been rather lovely, to be honest," she slumped. It had been more than lovely, it had been comfortable, warm ... right. "but ...oh I don't know Matthew." She heaved a big sigh.

"Nothing would change, well, that's not quite right," he looked into her clear, blue-grey eyes, "I wouldn't expect to have to come 'home' some nights," she looked up and smiled a wry smile, there were some things she wasn't quite ready to share with him, "but I wouldn't expect you to iron my shirts, I'm quite capable of doing that, or sit and knit of an evening..."

"Good, I never learnt," she gave a half hearted laugh.

"... I'm not going to pressurise you, Alice," that would be the best way to send her running for the hills, "just ... well ... you know."

"Will you give me today, to make my decision?" she asked, nervously, "let me take my things back, think, please."

He kissed her gently, on the lips, it would be the last time he would suggest it, if she decided to keep things as they were, then, fine, he would bow to her needs, anything to stop him losing her.

They agreed she would stay to dinner, see the travellers, then do as she always did, escorted by Matthew, go home.

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"Should be home in time for surgery," Lucien mused as they packed the car.

"No rush, though," Jean passed him a suitcase, "Alice is taking it today, we agreed ..."

"I know, and, before you say anything," he grinned, "I shan't go in and take over."

"Good, because I shall need help unpacking and sorting the children out," she laughed back, "and there's dinner to sort out."

"Surely Mattie ..."

"Perhaps ..."

"Wonder if Alice stayed," he muttered, more to himself than her.

"I don't know, that was left to her, and Matthew," Jean smiled, "I'm sure someone will tell me in town."

"And ..?"

"They are adults, Lucien, and anyway, I'm sure they were discreet about it."

He still didn't know if she approved. She never expressed an opinion either way, while it happened at Alice's own house, and she was happy that Matthew was loved and had someone to love, but ... he shrugged his shoulders and helped her load the children into the car. Julia didn't want to be strapped into her seat, she had spent five days barely using the stroller, it had been used just to put the beach toys and picnic basket in. She'd also refused to allow Jean to put her in a nappy that morning, for the journey. In a way Jean didn't blame her, she hadn't needed them all the time they had been away, except at night, and she didn't particularly like the disposable ones she had opted to use, either.

"No! Beach!" she cried.

"We're going home, darling," Jean passed her the toy dog, "to see Uncle Matthew and Aunty Alice, and Nurse Mattie."

"Maffoo?" she sniffed, and held the toy tight. She had happily left it in the cot each day, when mama said that it wouldn't like the sea, but at mealtimes and in bed, she cuddled it tight and had her own little chats with it.

"Yes darling," Jean kissed her head, "he's at home."

Lucien finished paying the bill and thanking the hoteliers for a lovely stay, saying they would be sure to seek them out if they came to Torquay again.

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"Do you want to stop along the way," Lucien asked as they headed away from the beach, with Ted looking sadly out of the window.

"I think we better had," Jean looked at him. He was well rested, his hair bleached a little by the sun, a light tan to his face, and other parts that were now covered by clothing.

"Right," he settled to his driving, a leisurely, but not too slow, speed, they weren't really in any hurry.

The road was clear again, as it had been on the outward journey, and Ted fell asleep after keeping Julia amused for a short time. They had been so active, running around, paddling, flying the kite ... neither of his parents were surprised and when Julia joined him in slumber they knew they would have a fairly quiet trip.

They stopped in a different small town around lunchtime. Finding a car park near some public gardens with toilets. They woke the children and attended to the necessary needs of both of them. Then, after a walk round to stretch their legs they headed into the main part of town to find a cafe that could provide them with sustenance for the remainder of the journey.

They spent quite some time, eating first, at a small cafe, then wandering round the streets of the place they found themselves in.

"Can we go back to the gardens, mum?" Ted asked, "for a walk."

Jean looked at Lucien and he smiled. "I don't see why not," he nodded, "we aren't in a rush and if they'll settle better in the car ..."

It was just a walk, but both children looked at the plants, which Jean named for them, and chattered on about this and that, and nothing in particular.

"Come on," Jean held her hand out for Ted, "Julia seems tired, let's get back to the car and head off home." It was true, Julia had stumbled a couple of times and was more than happy for dada to put her on his shoulders.

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Lucien pulled up on the drive, and stopped as gently as he could. The children were asleep, still, and so was Jean. He turned and smiled softly, then leant over and woke her with a gentle kiss to the cheek.

"Um, huh?" she mumbled and blinked, "sorry, did I fall asleep?"

"Not for long, love," he whispered, "just the last half hour or so."

"Sorry," she smiled sheepishly.

"Don't be."

He got out and went round to open the door for her, offering her his hand. She stepped out, elegantly, she always looked elegant when she eased out of the car, and he pulled her in for a proper kiss before they woke the children and headed back into their home.

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Surgery was underway so Jean headed to the kitchen to put the kettle on while Lucien lifted the children out of the car. Ted woke as he touched him and grinned.

"Hello, dad," he giggled, "are we back?"

"We are, son," he stood back so he could see the open front door, "in you go, I think mum's making a drink."

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Jean made a pot of tea and put out enough cups so Alice and Mattie could have some too, plus milk for the children, just as Lucien wandered through carrying a sleepy and grumpy little girl.

"Here," Jean held out her arms, "let me see to her. You have your tea, we can unpack in a little while."

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Alice looked up from her desk and called for whoever it was to enter. She was just about to call in the next patient so she was surprised to be interrupted. Perhaps it was Mattie. But no, and she smiled when Jean poked her head round the door and showed the tea cup she had in her hand.

"Thought you might like a cuppa," she murmured. "Hello, Alice, we're back."

"So I see," Alice nodded her in, "good time?"

"Lovely, thank you," Jean put the cup down, "see you after surgery."

"Right," as Jean started to leave, "oh, Jean, Mattie's suggested cold meat and salad for dinner, before you go cooking something. It should all be in the fridge, ready, just."

"Thank you, I was wondering," Jean grinned, "you are stopping, aren't you?" A rhetorical question, she was expected.

"Yes, thank you," Alice went back to checking which patient was next and Jean left, smiling. No hesitation now.

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The house was a bustle of activity, with Jean and Lucien seeing to unpacking and dropping the laundry into the basket. She was not going to put the washer on now, all to do tomorrow, she said. Lucien took the vacuum cleaner out to get rid of the sand in the car, Mattie entertained the children who took the gifts to her and Aunty Alice. They showed suitable pleasure in the thought and said they would wear them when it was a little cooler. Julia wandered round calling for 'Maffoo', until Alice caught her.

"Uncle Matthew's at work, pet," she stroked her cheek, "he'll be back for dinner."

Julia sat down with a whumph on the floor and pouted.

"What has he done to her?" Alice wondered out loud, "she seems to adore him."

"Jealous, doctor?" Jean smiled from the kitchen, at which Alice went pink.

Mattie laughed, "she obviously has an eye for a uniform."

"Yes, she followed Sergeant Hobart about, too," Jean observed, "when he did the stair gates for me."

"Really?" Mattie gasped, "well who'd have thought it." She got up from her seat on the floor with the children and went to help Jean set the dinner out.

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Matthew had stopped to talk to Lucien by the car as he finished hoovering up the last of the sand.

"That's the trouble with going to the beach," Matthew muttered in his ear, making the doctor jump. "Sand gets everywhere."

"Bloody hell, Lawson," Lucien hissed, "don't do that."

"Welcome back, good time?"

"Great, thanks," Lucien grinned, "how was it here?"

"Quiet, though Alice and Mattie did have a visit from Robert's father," Matthew stood with his hands in his pockets, "Mattie tells me Alice completely wrong footed him, cool as a cucumber, apparently. They'll tell you."

"I hope he wasn't trouble for them," Lucien pursed his lips, "at least Mattie didn't do a home visit on her own."

"Have you met him, Bob Farmer?" Matthew asked as they headed into the house. "Built like a brick shit house."

"Right, I'll bear that in mind," Lucien put the vacuum cleaner into the hall cupboard, "try not to annoy him."

"Who are you, and what have you done with Dr Blake?" Matthew laughed.

"Ha ha."

Julia must have heard Matthew's voice because the next thing the two men knew the red headed little girl was toddled down the hall, arms wide,

"Maffoo!" she called, "Maffoo!"

"Hello, Julia," the object of her affections grinned, "miss me?"

She reached up to him, and he obligingly swung her up with one hand so she was sitting on his hip, giggling.

"Hello, Matthew," Jean smiled at the sight, "you well?"

"Just fine, Jean," he replied with a grin, "you look well, have a good time."

"We had a lovely time, thank you, now dinner's nearly ready, so ..."

"Right, miss," he turned to his little burden, "down, while I go and get out of my uniform, eh?"

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Ted waited outside Matthew's door, he wanted to give him the key ring he had chosen with the typical enthusiasm of a small child.

"Uncle Matthew," looked up at him as he came out of the room, "we got you this, for your keys," he smiled shyly.

Matthew looked down, "why that's most kind of you, Ted," he patted his shoulder, "maybe I won't keep losing the keys to my desk, eh?"

"No," Ted grinned, "you can keep them altogether, now."

Alice watched from the kitchen door and wondered if he would miss the children being around all the time, now she had made her decision. She was almost sorry she would be pulling him away from this life he was so much a part of. Would the children miss him? Almost certainly, or would it mean that she was there more? She sighed; uncharted waters.

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Conversation over dinner was all about the holiday. Jean and Lucien let Ted tell as much as he could. It was disjointed, mixed up, exuberant.

"Mum and dad took some photos," he told them, "lots."

"I'd better get them processed, hadn't I?" his father pointed to his plate in an effort to get him to eat, "then everybody can see your sandcastles. Now, eat your dinner."

"Yes dad," he grinned.

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Children finally bathed and in bed, washing up done, the adults could settle to a drink and discussion about surgery and any issues that had arrived. Inevitably the conversation turned to the Farmer's, who Lucien would meet the following day.

"So, he thinks that doing things with the boy only, he will grow up to be 'a man'." Lucien mused, "how old do you think he is ... Mr Farmer?"

"I would say well into his forties," Alice stared into her whisky, "older than his wife, by quite a bit."

"Old fashioned ideas, perhaps?" he suggested, "the little woman at home ..."

Jean looked at him.

"I mean ... she is just there to cook and clean and darn his socks, not to have a mind of her own," he clarified, hastily.

"Possibly," she agreed.

"Highly likely, I would say," Alice huffed, "especially the way he spoke about, and to, Mattie, very dismissive, rude in fact."

"You hinted you knew him, Matthew," Lucien turned to his friend, "when you met me on the drive. What can you tell us?"

"Well, you're right about him being an older father, Alice," he sat back in the chair, "can be hauled in for brawling sometimes, after a beer or two. Never heard of any home trouble, not that that means it doesn't happen."

"Work?"

"No idea," he admitted, "you'll have to ask him. Can't see him in an office, I would say some physical work, building perhaps, has that set about him."

"Right," Lucien sat back and thought, "should be an interesting afternoon, then."

"Mrs Farmer looked worried when I told her about the appointment, at Robert's check up," Mattie mentioned, "she said she would be sure to bring the girls but wasn't sure if she could get her husband to come."

"Nervous?"

"More than nervous, but not frightened," she agreed, "I got the feeling he sets the rules in the house."

"Sounds like he's a bit of a bully," Jean noted.

Heads nodded in agreement.

"Well, I'd better head off," Alice pushed herself up from the couch, "back to the usual tomorrow," she added, ruefully.

"I'll walk you home," Matthew smiled, she had promised to give her answer to the unasked question tonight.

"Thank you, Matthew."

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"Alright, I know you're dying to ask," Mattie smirked as the door closed behind the superintendant and his lady love, and Jean came back down to the living room. "Yes, she did stay, and no, you don't have any extra laundry, Jean."

"Mattie! Really!" Jean tried to look cross, but couldn't wipe the smile off her face. "I hope you didn't make any silly comments."

"I left them to get on with whatever," she winked, "I linked up with some friends on two evenings, and then it was just like being home with ma and pa. I do think, however, it has given Alice food for thought. She seemed quite happy, but I know she worries about Matthew's position in the town."

"I'm sure Matthew's big enough to deal with that himself," Lucien shrugged, "but he won't let Alice get hurt."

"People are talking though," Mattie sighed, "like they did with you two, only this time there's substance to that gossip. Alice is aware, and has her own put downs, but really, it's nobody's business but theirs."

"Exactly," Jean almost snapped, "but I do know how it feels."

"You know," Mattie had wondered whether to mention this, "some people still think you and Lucien had to get married ... Julia ..."

"I heard one old biddy muttering that it was about time, that Lucien should have done the right thing after Ted was born, and not tried to hide it." Jean huffed. "I mean, how was I supposed to hide two pregnancies? I was huge with Christopher and Jack."

"Anyway, I only met you four years ago," Lucien added, "and you were working for dad, or did they think he was dad's?"

"Well, we know the truth," this time she did snap, "so they can all go hang!"

Mattie and Lucien looked at her, eyes widened.

"Come here, Jean," Lucien held his arms out to her, and she went to sit on his knee, Mattie felt it was time for her to go to bed and bade them goodnight. "You and I against the world, eh? You must tell me, love, if it gets to you. They have no right to try to blacken your name, and if any of them are patients, you let me know, I will put them straight, politely."

"It's alright, Lucien darling," she snuggled against his chest, "I, like Alice, have my comebacks, remember, I've lived here all my life, I know some secrets people would like to keep that way."

"Perhaps you should write a book," he kissed the top of her head, "now, we've had a long day, so ..."

She sighed a deep sigh and wriggled against him, smiling as she got a rather predictable reaction.

"Floozy," he teased.

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Alice slipped her hand through the crook of Matthew's elbow as they wandered to her small house. Their walks were always more of a gentle stroll, not just because of Matthew's knee, though that did play a part, but because they just enjoyed the solitude.

She turned the key in the door and they slipped in closing it behind them, whereupon Matthew wrapped his arms round her and drew her into a deep, passionate and, it has to be said, breath-taking kiss.

"Why, superintendant," she breathed, "I'm quite overcome."

"Really, doctor, perhaps you'd better sit down," he smirked. There were two Alice's in his life, the completely professional and sometimes emotionless Alice, and the warm, funny and deeply loving person who stood before him. Only their closest friends knew something of this Alice, and that was how they wanted it to stay.

It was a difficult conversation to start, and different to their usual topics of current cases and such like: how were they to proceed in this relationship? She cuddled up to him on the couch and sighed, knowing only she had the answer to that question. He didn't want to ask, he wasn't going to ask, he had promised himself that.

She took one of his hands in hers and studied it. This hand, with its neat, trimmed nails and slightly roughened skin would caress her skin gently, take her places she didn't know existed and hold her as she slept. She kissed it, each finger in turn then linked her fingers through his.

The atmosphere between them was charged with electricity as each waited for the other to say something. Alice knew she had to say something, to put him out of his misery, so to speak. She shifted, just enough to be able to lift her head and look into his face. He smiled ever so gently and if she wasn't sure she had made the right decision before, she knew she had now,

"Matthew," she whispered, "I have made my decision, and, it's yes, I would like to marry you, if you still want me."

"Of course I still want you," he tightened his hold on her, "we'll be alright, you and me." He bent his head and kissed her lightly.


	19. Chapter 19

"I'll take the children into town, do the shopping for you, Jean," Mattie spoke through a mouthful of toast. "Give you some peace to get on with things, if you want."

"That would be a great help," Jean smiled, "I'll give you a list and can you take the films to be processed, before Ted bursts?"

He'd asked how long it would be before they could see the pictures his father had taken, when could they take them into town?

"Of course, I think they take about a week, Ted," she turned to the little boy, "so you'll have to be patient."

He pouted into his cereal, a week was forever!

"Sorry sweetheart, but until they invent some way for us to print them instantly at home, you'll have to wait," Jean grinned and smoothed down an errant curl. Like Lucien, his hair had lightened in the sun and he had more freckles on his nose and across his cheeks.

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While Mattie was out and the washer was going through its cycle, Jean had time to look at the few personal letters that had arrived while they were away. There was one from Rose saying not much, but that she missed them and asking what was going on with Uncle Matthew as he seemed cagey when she rang? Jean gave a wry smile at that, obviously he had said nothing to her about his relationship with Alice. There was one from Christopher which she thought would deserve her undivided attention so she put a load of laundry on the line, set another going and sat down to a cup of tea and a read of her son's letter.

He had started with the usual 'notes from a small army house', as he called it, how Amelia was growing, chatting and getting into everything. Ruby's pregnancy was going well, she was coping much better this time round and Amelia was fascinated by the growing bump. While he was still liable to be sent anywhere in the world they would be having a short respite in Ballarat, at the Sturt Street Barracks. He had had his request for a base property approved and they would be returning before Christmas. Even if he was sent overseas, Ruby had expressed a desire to stay in Ballarat to have the baby and join him when it was possible to travel.

Jean was pleased that Ruby was happier with this pregnancy and not planning to rely on her so much this time around. Of course she would be more than happy to help when she could but she herself had more responsibilities than she had when Amelia was born. The baby was due early February so Ruby would want to be travelling soon, before it became uncomfortable or unwise to do so. She resolved to send a telegram and ask if there was anything they wanted her to do, a letter would take too long.

Next, the letter from Rose, that she had briefly glanced at. She seemed happy enough, in Melbourne, busy with her work on the paper and thinking of trying to get a book published. Jean wondered what kind of book, fiction, perhaps. With the way her mind worked she would be good at detective stories, she had hung around Lucien and Matthew long enough, and helped with some cases. She put forward the idea that Matthew was involved in some heavy case, he was so vague when she phoned and actually caught him in, did Jean know of anything?

Jean did know something, but she didn't think it was up to her to say, after all, it was gossip, wasn't it? She thought she might write a short reply, tell her Matthew was fine, busy as ever, and out most evenings so they didn't see that much of him. Rose could make of that what she would. She would enclose a picture from their holiday, that would make her smile, she hoped.

Well, she'd better get on with the baking, there was a lack of biscuits in the tin, and no cake.

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The Farmer's were last on the list for that day, Mattie was like a cat on a hot tin roof; would Mr Farmer attend, or would it be down to Robert's mother and the children? If he did attend, would he be as loud has he had been when he came to tell her to back off?

"Jean," Lucien had thought about this and, after a discussion with Mattie about how best to proceed, "can we have the group toys, please?"

"Yes, of course, why?"

"We think that if Mr Farmer sees Robert with Ted, Julia and his sisters, perhaps playing like they do, just let him observe, he might come round to a different way of thinking, you know, about how to bring up a boy to be a man, but one who values women as well." He looked at her, wondering if he had made himself clear.

He had, and Jean agreed, but, "if you see any signs of him starting to throw toys, you make sure Julia is out of the firing line." She leant on the kitchen table had gave him a hard stare. "I mean it, Lucien. You are not using our children in your experiments."

"Well, it's not really an experiment, is it?" he reached out for her hand, "it's just I think it will be easier to explain, and if Julia wants to come away, that's fine, same with Ted. I just thought they could play while I talk to the parents."

"Hmm..." she pursed her lips, "alright."

"Are you going ahead with the group, tomorrow?" he asked, "with Robert?"

"That's the plan, and before you say I'm doing the same as you," she warned, "there are more adults there, all of whom will be watching Robert, not you talking and ignoring what's going on. Those that don't want to come have that option, today, we don't."

He could see her point, and perhaps she was right, this was part of being a good father he had to admit, and this time he had to be exactly that.

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How Mrs Farmer had managed to persuade her husband he had to be at the appointment with Dr Blake, Mattie would never know, though she thought she saw the remnants of tears on her face, and the youngest girl was holding her hand tightly. They were in Lucien's room, where he had pushed the examination couch against the wall and the dressing trolley well out of the way. There was the toy box on the floor and the chairs were set so that the adults could sit in a semi circle and talk while the children played. Sally and Diane were happy to play with the toys and Ted and Julia, Anne sat a little apart, too old to play with cars and bricks and dolls, but she did help untangle some doll's hair from the wheels of a car. Robert made to snatch a brick off Julia and Mrs Farmer made to stop him, but Lucien stopped her and put his finger to his lips.

"Robert," Sally hissed, "that's not fair. There are some other bricks there." She pointed to the pile of toys.

Robert pointed at the one Julia was holding, "want that one."

Julia handed it over, and Robert took it sharply, sticking his tongue out. He continued to boss the girls about, telling them he wanted certain toys where they were to put them, Mattie could see Ted wasn't happy, he kept trying to change the direction of play, giving Julia and the Farmer girls toys to play with, cars and bricks, dolls and rag books. They started to build a structure, with children, Lucien thought, who knows what that is to them, and dance the dolls in and out. Julia giggled and Sally smiled, then laughed. Soon Robert was left to play alone and even his father could see that made him unhappy. He wanted to play with them, but his idea of play was to take the toys and build what he wanted.

"Stop it!" Ted shouted, "Robert, you're not being nice." He reached over for a stacking ring Robert had taken from the girls.

"Mine!" Robert shouted back.

"No it isn't!" Ted argued back, "put it back!"

"No!" Robert raised the ring and aimed it at Diane, Lucien leapt forward and grabbed the boy and the ring.

"That's enough, my lad," he huffed, taking the ring, "here, Sally, put it back where you want it."

Mr Farmer didn't seem to see anything wrong or undesirable in his son's behaviour, and proceeded to tell the doctor that the boy was just being a boy, there was nothing wrong with the way he played.

"My son is a strong boy, he'll grow up to be a strong man," he insisted, "provide for his family, keep order."

"Mr Farmer, can't you see he's bullying the others?" Lucien pointed out, "particularly the girls, he was going to hit Diane with that ring. He can't always have his own way, that is no way for him to win friends." He turned to Mrs Farmer, "now I believe Nurse O'Brien made some suggestions, a play session, perhaps some baking?"

"Yes," she smiled, "he seems to be alright when it's just him and his two sisters. Anne's more of a reader, and she did read to him yesterday, he seemed to like it."

"And the baking?"

"My son is not doing female chores," Mr Farmer interrupted, "cooking is women's work."

"I like baking," Ted had been listening. Mr Farmer glared at him.

Lucien had the lie of the land. There were still men who believed a woman's place was tied to the kitchen sink and Mr Farmer seemed to be one of the worst.

"I don't think there is any more for us here," Bob Farmer stood up, "come on, home." It wasn't a suggestion it was an order.

"Bob..." his wife whispered, "please ..."

"You've dinner to get on," he practically lifted her out of the chair, "Robert ..." he held out his hand and the boy scooted over to him. The girls followed at a slower pace.

Realising he wasn't going to get any further and he couldn't insist they stayed Lucien let them go, shaking his head sadly.

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Life went on, Mrs Farmer stopped going to the mother and baby group, which bothered Mattie and Jean. They would look out for her when they were shopping, or when Jean was collecting Ted from school. They even asked Matthew to keep an eye out. Farmer spent one or two nights in the cells, drunk. Ordinarily he would be ejected from the pub and told to go home, but Lucien had suggested he be allowed to sleep it off in the cells before going home, he had a feeling Mrs Farmer would come off worst, and probably had been doing.

Things didn't get better. Mrs Farmer, who, in spite of her husband's disdain for that 'slip of a girl' and that 'know it all, Blake', continued to use Dr Blake as her GP and brought Diane to him with a cut lip. It wasn't the first time one of the girls had been brought over with an injury, and they were all caused by Robert snatching or throwing toys. Mrs Farmer said he was getting out of control and her husband was doing nothing about it save a cursory chastisement. When the girls were at school and it was just her and the child at home she had more success, but when the girls were about he wouldn't play nicely with them, what had started out well has seemed to fall apart.

Lucien had catalogued the injuries and was wondering if he would have to involve family welfare. He looked at the little girl, tears of pain streaming down her face and a blood soaked handkerchief held against her mouth.

"Come on little lady," he held his hand out, "let's have you on the couch and I'll have a look, hm?"

The cut was deep and ran from the corner of her lip almost an inch down towards her jaw. He was shocked and showed it.

"This will have to be stitched," he murmured, "I'll give you a little injection so it won't hurt." He turned to Mrs Farmer, but decided she was too distressed to help. "Just a moment." He poked his nose out of the room and called for Nurse O'Brien.

"Dr Blake?" Mattie stood at the doorway, "how can I help?"

"Can you hold Diane for me, give her a cuddle while I stitch the cut?"

Mattie sat on the couch and wrapped her arms round the whimpering child, putting her hand on her forehead to hold it still while Lucien administered the local anaesthetic before stitching the cut as neatly as possible. He hoped that as she grew the scarring would become minimal.

"How did this happen, Mrs Farmer?" Lucien asked, gently. To him this ran deeper than a little boy being schooled by his father to 'be a man'. He helped Diane down, "now miss," he smiled at her, "why don't you go with Nurse O'Brien, I bet she can sneak you a glass of milk, even a biscuit to dunk in it," he looked up at Mattie.

"You know, Dr Blake," she grinned, "I think your wife has been baking today, maybe there's some warm shortbread going."

"Bravo," he nodded. Turning to Mrs Farmer he asked her to sit down and took a seat opposite her.

"Robert and Diane were playing, building towers, and they were happy together, for once," she sighed, "then, Diane ran out of bricks so she took one from Robert's pile ..."

Lucien raised his eyebrows.

"... it's the only way they play nicely, if Robert has a separate pile of bricks, but it's a start, I suppose. Anyway, he didn't like she did that, took a brick ,and he grabbed another and hit her with it." She burst into tears, "I don't know what to do, Bob doesn't see it as a problem, women have to be kept in their place. I suppose I should have known, when I married him," she wiped her eyes and blew her nose, "his mother was a timid little woman, lovely and sweet, his father was a bully, she ran around after him and Bob, did their bidding without a murmur. But there was only Bob, no sisters or even a brother ..."

"Mrs Farmer ..." he looked at her, he was going to ask some rather probing questions " ... Mrs Farmer, does he ..." he took a deep breath, "does your husband hit you?"

She gasped and flushed red, "sometimes," it was almost a whisper, "but I don't think the children have seen. He'll slap my arm, has kicked my leg, under the table, but usually he just shouts at me."

"Careful not to do it where bruises will show." Lucien murmured. She didn't answer, what could she say.

"Has anyone ever taken him on?" he thought, "you know, either in a bar, or in the street?"

"He's a big man, doctor," she reminded him, "who would?"

Blake had an idea, he didn't know if it would work or how he could make it come about, but Bob Farmer needed a taste of his own medicine.

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The park was busy. Such a lovely day had brought out most of Ballarat. Families were having picnics, children were playing with hoops and balls, boys and girls together. Jean grinned as she watched Lucien, Bill and Ted pass a football between themselves, and they were quickly joined by other children and the odd parent. Jean had to hold Julia away, she so wanted to join in but she was far too small. One of the others from the group saw her and as her child was only just walking she went to join them give Julia a friend to help her put the rings in patterns.

"I never know what toys to bring out, on days like these," Mrs Thompson mused, "Katie likes to put so many things in her mouth, still."

"Julia's still exploring with her mouth too," Jean laughed at the memory of her trying sand. "At least these rings are big enough to chew on."

"Yes, oh, look," Mrs Thompson was distracted, "there's the Farmers. I haven't seen them for ages. Is everything ok with them?"

"That's for her to say," Jean would not break the confidences of the surgery.

"Is that a dressing on the little girl's face? Oh I do hope Robert hasn't been up to his tricks again."

"Mmm..." Jean hummed.

"My husband knows him, you know, at work."

"Really?" Jean mused, "I thought your husband was an engineer for the railways."

"He is, but he," she tossed her head in the direction of the family, "is a ganger, laying and maintaining track. Tough on his men."

"I see," Jean thought she could see what Mrs Thompson was thinking about.

Mrs Thompson leaned in, under the pretext of passing her daughter a coloured ring, "Mrs Blake, I saw Mrs Farmer, the other day," she looked round, "she was in the chemist, buying arnica."

"Well, with children ..." Jean hummed, they used it on Ted, usually after football.

"I know, but ..." Mrs Thompson looked around, "she looked nervous, she looked as if she shouldn't be there."

"Buying arnica isn't a crime," Jean whispered.

"I know, but ..." she sighed, "oh, I don't know."

Jean suddenly smiled, she had been watching the kick about and Ted had just kicked the ball right between Lucien's legs to Bill Hobart; off duty for once; who passed it over to another child. Over by another tree Anne Farmer was reading to her sisters, she really was a bookworm, Jean thought. It reminded her of herself when she was that age. She couldn't see Robert, or his father, until the ball escaped the game. It rolled over to them, roughhousing on the grass. Farmer sat up and looked at it, he glared at Bill as the sergeant headed over to retrieve it. Bill was the one who seemed to drag him down to the cells when he got a little drunk in the pub. He despised the man, but his uniform was why he didn't retaliate. Bill nodded, pleasantly, hooked the ball with his foot and booted it over to the group. The game continued, some dropped out for a rest, others joined. Jean noticed Robert head towards it, look back at his father, who nodded, then run to join in. She wondered what mischief he would get into.

When he didn't immediately get the ball, Robert picked it up and took it to one side to kick it towards the group, all good, at first. He was too small to run and kick as well as the others, Ted ran rings round him, and others too. There were gales of laughter every time he got it past Lucien or Bill. Mr Farmer wandered over to see how things were going. Most ignored him, though they hoped he wouldn't join in. Lucien kept an eye on him noting that if the ball went his way he would kick it to Robert, but that was only to be expected. It was only when Robert tripped over... nobody saw what it was he stumbled over, it could have been his own feet, the ball or another child, that Farmer stepped in. He picked his son up, dusted him off and set him back on his feet, glaring at those around. Robert was biting his lip, his father had said big boys don't cry but his head hurt and all he wanted was a kind word and a cuddle. Mrs Farmer went over to see to him, but her husband held her back.

"Leave him, he's fine," he grunted.

"Bob, his nose is bleeding," she hissed. He turned and glowered at her. She visibly shrank away. As the boy slowly headed back to the game he fell to the floor. Lucien was with him in seconds, checking his breathing, lifting his eyelids. The child was out cold. He lifted him gently and carried him over to his parents.

"Hospital, now," he ordered as he passed, striding away towards Jean who was already standing with the car keys held out. "Bill!" he called over his shoulder, "drive me, please!"

"Doc," Hobart ran over and took the keys falling into step with Lucien.

An eerie silence fell over the park, Mrs Farmer followed the doctor waving her arm to the girls to join her.

Jean stood up, "would you like them to come with me, Mrs Farmer?" she asked, gently, "the doctor can bring you over later."

"Mrs Blake," the poor woman was near to tears, "I ..."

"We'll be ok, mum," Anne murmured, "we can help Mrs Blake take her things and the children home, as the doctor has taken the car."

Jean looked at the oldest of the girls, she seemed to have more idea of how to cope, maybe Jean could get more of a sense of what went on in that house.

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With Ted holding the stroller, most of the things stored under it and Anne holding the hands of her two sisters, the little group made their way home. Jean wondered if Mattie or Matthew were around. She did wonder if Alice was there, the garden was bigger than hers, she and Matthew may be sitting in the sun, away from looks and gossip in the park. For some reason she thought Alice would be a good person to have around, at this particular time.

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At the hospital Lucien first ordered x-rays of Robert's head, a sturdy young boy such as he should not be collapsing after a fall in the park. He was sure he hadn't hit his head very hard. He asked the nurse to settle him in bed, wash his face and undress him.

Clipping the x-rays on the light-box Lucien stood back and studied them. Today's fall had not done any damage in the way of a fracture, but there appeared to be three old, healed fractures - two at the back of his head and one on the side. Falls hard enough to result in such injuries would have left the boy dazed, at the very least, perhaps concussed, yet there were no entries in his medical notes though he did find a couple of healed cuts on his scalp. He had no idea how these had been ignored, scalp lacerations bled, a lot. He ordered further x-rays of the whole of the little body. There were questions that needed answering - was Robert routinely beaten by his father, or his mother; but more likely his father; did he fall over on a regular basis? Did the times he was with his father cause injuries? When he had tripped in the park Mr Farmer had picked him up and sent him back into the group without a word of encouragement or comfort. From what Lucien saw the little lad was longing for at least a hug, to be told he was a brave boy. He hadn't cried - had he been told he shouldn't because 'big boys don't cry'?

Outside the room the Farmer's were arguing.

"You make him soft," he was telling his wife, "cosset the boy."

"At least I love him," she hissed back, "at least I give him a cuddle when he falls."

"Cuddles, huh!" he huffed, "pick him up and dust him off. I never got cuddles."

"Ever since Dr Blake suggested he do a little bit of baking with me, play with his sisters you've been even harder on him," she twisted a handkerchief in her hands, "why can't you let him be a child? He's not quite four, you treat him like one of your men on the railways."

He glared at her, "he needs to toughen up."

"At the moment," Lucien stood behind Mrs Farmer, " I don't even know if he'll wake up." He wasn't going to soft soap them, he had no idea if Robert would regain consciousness, if he did how the head injuries would have affected him, "I found three healed fractures on your son's skull, consistent with having had falls, knocks. I'm just waiting for the rest of the pictures to see if there are any other injuries you haven't had treated. If there are then somebody has a lot of explaining to do."

"He's a boy," Mr Farmer snapped, "they get bumps and bruises."

"They do, but not like this," Lucien wanted to show him how hard it was to crack someone's skull, "and leaving untreated or unchecked is dangerous. I want to know how he got these injuries."

Mrs Farmer looked worried, tears in her eyes, Mr Farmer glared. He did a lot of glaring, the doctor thought, did he get glared at when he was a child?

"Well?"

"He may have fallen, a couple of times," he muttered, "in the garden."

"How was he afterwards?" He was interrupted by a porter handing him an envelope from the Radiology Department. He slipped the contents out and held them up to the light. The x-rays of Robert's chest showed a displaced rib fracture, Lucien drew his brows together, he was lucky it didn't puncture his lung. It seemed to be healed.

"Mr Farmer," he turned to the big, sulky oaf in front of him, "I asked how was he after the falls? Whereabouts in the garden did he fall?"

"Er ..."

"He never cries ..." Mrs Farmer whispered.

"Big boys don't cry," her husband hissed.

"He's a child!" she screamed, "he's our baby!" Finally all the pent up frustration and hurt came to the front of her mind. She balled her fists and pounded his chest, "you have hurt our little boy, all for your 'man' training. You are a bully! A brute! Well, this is the last time you touch him, I've had enough! I don't want you anywhere near any of our children, least of all Robert. You can pack your bags and go! Leave, get out of my sight! You bastard!"

He looked down at her, while others looked on with approval. Lucien stood with his arms folded, waiting ...

Mr Farmer stared at the angry little woman before him. She never challenged him, he gave her a slap if she did, kept her in her place. But he was surrounded by nurses, doctors, and, although all were smaller than him their combined effort would take him down.

"I'll see you at home," he snarled.

"Oh no you won't!" she bit back, "you had better be gone before I get back! If you are still there I will take the children and go ... and you will never find us." Though she had no idea where she would go.

He leant in and whispered menacingly, "you've not heard the last of this."

"Come anywhere near us and I'll report you to the police," she muttered through gritted teeth, "Dr Blake and all these people here will back me up."

Lucien had watched all this with interest. Mrs Farmer's anger must have been boiling inside her for some time, certainly during Robert's, so far, short life. Strangely he wondered why Mr Farmer had been so cavalier about his only son's wellbeing, leaving his bumps and bruises untended, and not visited his annoyance on the girls.

"Mrs Farmer," he touched her elbow, "would you like to come in and see Robert. We can talk about his treatment."

She turned, deflated, "thank you, Dr Blake," and without a backward glance she followed him into the room where her little boy lay, pale, with a bruise across his forehead, and still unconscious. Far too small for such a big bed, she thought, and her heart lurched. She'd not looked out for him enough, Bob taking care of most of his needs except food and clothing.

"Bob," she took the tiny hand in hers, and looked at Lucien, "Bob did everything for him, bathed him, the room was always awash and a mess when he'd finished, took him out to play ... I fed him and bought his clothes, but Bob said he needed a man's guidance." She sighed heavily, "I failed him, didn't I?" She started to cry, "I should have done more but Bob ..."

"...is a big man and strong." Lucien put his hand on her shoulder, "you weren't to know he was actually neglecting him, though surely Robert appeared dizzy, or overtly tired, if he'd banged his head."

"No, I don't think so," she sniffed, "of course Bob could have kept him playing until it was barely noticeable, I suppose. They were out, together, for ages, all day sometimes, with one of the girls taking a sandwich out to them. We weren't allowed to interrupt his games."

"Mrs Farmer," Lucien took a deep breath, "do you realise that Robert could have died, in his sleep, after one of the head injuries?"

She gulped and put her hand to her mouth, "oh God, no!" she swallowed, "and now? There's still that chance, isn't there? Because he collapsed."

"I don't know how much damage has been done, to his brain, and won't until, he wakes up," the doctor admitted, seriously.

" _If_ he wakes up, you mean," she stared at her son, "there's a chance he won't, isn't there?" She looked up at Lucien, "you can be honest with me, doctor, the damage is done."

"I'm sorry, Mrs Farmer," he drew a chair to the side of the bed, "why don't you sit with him. Talk to him, tell him a story, perhaps the sound of your voice will bring him out of it."

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Jean took the call in the study. The children were in the garden, she had apologised to Matthew and Alice for disturbing their peace, having made enough noise as they came into the kitchen, and let Ted take the Farmer girls out with him and Julia while she made drinks and put some biscuits on a plate.

"Right, well, I'll make up the beds in the spare rooms," she sighed, "I think I'll ask Alice to stay over, rather than her and Matthew sneak off to her house."

In the hospital corridor her husband could sense her unease. She was right to ask Matthew to be there, at least until he got home, but he needed to stay a little longer, be there for Mrs Farmer and Robert.

"I don't know when I'll be back, so, yes, that's a good idea. At least you'll have Matthew just in case you get an unwelcome visitor."

"I'll speak to him in a moment. How is Robert? The girls are bound to ask."

"At the moment he's still unconscious, his mother is with him, I told her to talk to him, tell him a story. The sound of her voice ..." he sighed and Jean heard him, then he told her what he had found on the x-rays.

"You're doing your best, Lucien, he's in the best place," she smiled softly, "I'll see you later."

"Thanks Jean," he whispered, "love you."

"Love you too," she put the receiver down, smoothed her skirt, squared her shoulders and went to do all the things she had to do.

Looking out of the sunroom she could see Mattie entertaining the children while Matthew and Alice looked on. She wanted to speak to the older couple alone and waved to catch an eye.

Matthew looked up and smiled, then, realising she wanted to speak stood up. Jean pointed at Alice, he nodded.

"Jean needs us, Alice," he muttered in her ear and held out his hand.

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In the kitchen Jean outlined what had happened in the park and what Lucien had told her over the phone.

"So, until we know how the little boy is I'm going to prepare for the girls to stay here, and," she took a deep breath, there were things that were still unsaid, about Matthew and Alice, "I wondered, if, instead of you two going to your house, Alice, you would mind staying here, tonight. I don't know when Lucien will be back and, Bob Farmer ..." the threat hung in the air.

Alice went slightly pink but nodded. "Alright, Jean," she smiled, "would you mind if I nipped home, get my toiletries?"

"No, of course not," Jean agreed, hoping she hadn't embarrassed the pathologist. "I need to talk to Anne, as the eldest, and the one who will understand best from what I've seen, explain that they will likely be staying over."

"Will you tell her how Robert is?" Alice asked, "well, as best you can, anyway."

"I was wondering if I should wait for her to ask, but probably."

Matthew wondered whether he should accompany Alice or stay and support Jean.

"I'll be fine, Matthew," Alice kissed his cheek, and turned to Jean, "may I borrow your car?"

"Of course," Jean passed over the keys, "probably a good idea."

Matthew visibly relaxed, Alice hated being protected but even she would be no match for Bob Farmer, so driving the short distance was a much better idea.

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Jean called Anne in, on the pretext of needing some help in the kitchen. She sat her down and explained what Lucien had told her, about Robert, and that they thought it would be a good idea if they prepared for her and her sisters to stay for the night.

"That's very kind of you, Mrs Blake," Anne sighed, she had tears in her eyes, "I know Robert is a little bugger at times, but he is my brother. Dad's not the type of father to give hugs and kisses, not even to Robert. Mum does, though." She drew herself up, "shall I help you do the beds?"

"Thank you Anne, I'm afraid it's a double and a single, so ..."

"The double will be fine, for all of us," Anne smiled, "really."

"If you're sure," Jean had wondered which two to put together, but Sally and Diane were only small girls, one or both of them may need an older family member during the night.

"Yes, and it's less work for you."

Jean looked at her.

"I help mum when I can," she stood up and followed Jean to the stairs, "Dad does nothing, none of the household chores and with four kids ... I will need to know how to housekeep, won't I? For when I get married." Jean didn't think the idea of marriage particularly appealed but Anne had probably already been told this was her lot in life.

"Would you like to have a career, first, Anne?" she looked into her eyes, "you seem very good with small children, they obviously like listening to you read stories."

"I once said I'd like to be a teacher," there was a faraway look in her eyes, "but ..." she shrugged her shoulders, "... best get this bed done, Mrs Blake." She shook herself out of her dreams and back to the present, dull world she inhabited.

Jean touched her arm, "never let go of your dreams, Anne," she said, softly, "sometimes they come good in the strangest ways."

"I don't think so."

"I had dreams, of travel, seeing the world," Jean sat on the bed and brushed imaginary threads off the linen in her arms, "I thought they were gone to dust too."

"Were they?" Anne was intrigued, all she knew of Mrs Blake was that she was married to the doctor.

"Not forever," Jean lifted her head, there was no harm in telling her story, with some details left out, "I married young, a farmer, had two boys. It was a hard life but we were happy, for most of the time. Every couple argues, Anne, we wouldn't be human if we didn't have differences, and life would be very boring." She gave a half smile. " Christopher, my first husband, joined the army, went to war, and never came back. I had to make choices, so I came to work for old Dr Blake, then when he died, I stayed on to work for this doctor. He knew I wanted to see the world so, when we married, he took me on a long honeymoon, Europe, America. So, I did get to see the world, a little later than planned, my dreams did come true, and now I'm settled, here with him and the children, where I should be. So you see, Anne, things can work out, if you have patience and belief."

Anne stared at her. She never imagined an adult would talk to her as an equal, perhaps she too could have her dreams, perhaps, if dad was out of the way, or if she ignored him ...

"I'm glad you came back, Mrs Blake," she smiled, "and I'm glad you got your wish."

"Let's get this bed made, shall we?"

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Sister passed Dr Blake a cup of tea and a biscuit. He had been pouring over Robert's x-rays, rifling through books on brain damage and writing notes, which would go with the notes he held at the surgery.

"How is Mrs Farmer doing?" he asked, thanking her for the drink, "has she had tea?"

"... and biscuits, doctor," she smiled, "she's been telling Robert fairy tales, reciting nursery rhymes. I heard her promise him his favourite dinner, sausages and potatoes."

"Good, good," he muttered absent-mindedly. "Perhaps a camp bed could be put up for her, even if he wakes she won't want to leave him, tonight."

"Of course." She agreed, "what has happened with the other children? There are daughters, I believe."

"They are with my wife, at our home." He would have to make it up to Jean, though it wasn't his fault, this time. "Nurse O'Brien will be there to help her, and the Superintendant." He decided against mentioning the pathologist as well.

"Right," she went to organise the camp bed and left him to his musings.

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Mrs Farmer had just about run out of poems and rhymes to tell her son when she noticed a fluttering of his eye lids. She leapt up and looked intently at his face, yes, there it was again, a blink, a screwing up of the face. She flew to the door and wrenched it open,

"Dr Blake!" she shouted, "Dr Blake, I think he's coming round!"

Lucien almost dropped the cup he was holding as he jumped up and strode over to her. She stood aside so he could get into the room and go to the bed. She watched as he attended to her son, a slow smile spreading over his face.

"Hello, young man," he said gently, "nice to see you awake."

The little boy's lower lip trembled.

"Mummy?"

Lucien beckoned Mrs Farmer over, "here she is."

"Robert," she stroked his cheek, "it's ok, sweetie, mummy's here."

"Mrs Farmer, I need to do a few checks ..."

"Of course," she made to get up.

"No, please," he smiled, "I think Robert would like you to stay." He turned back to the boy, "would you like mummy to stay? it's alright if you do. I think she'd like to."

He checked his pupils, his sense of touch and his reflexes. All seemed in order. All the while Mrs Farmer stroked his head, telling him he was a brave boy. His eyes were full of tears but he refused to let them fall. Lucien wondered how often his father had told him 'big boys don't cry', a good sob would help him.

"How's your head, son?" Lucien touched the bruise. "Sore?"

Robert sniffed and bit his lip.

"You know, Robert," Lucien sat on the edge of the bed, "if I have a headache, I find a good cry helps." He stroked his cheek with the back of his finger and smiled.

"It's ok sweetheart," his mother murmured. "You can, if you want to." She kissed his cheek. Slowly the boy began to cry, until he was sobbing his little heart out, and it felt so good, because his mother took him in her arms and held him and kissed him.

"I think he should stay in overnight, Mrs Farmer," Lucien put his hand on her shoulder, "Sister is sorting out something for you to sleep on."

"Dr Blake, thank you," she sniffed, "it's actually good to see Robert cry. He hasn't since he first started spending so much time with his father."

Lucien watched Robert cling to his mother, he would need watching for some time, to see if there were any after effects of his sudden collapse.

"Right, well, I believe Robert's favourite dinner is sausage and potatoes, so I'll see if the hospital can rustle some up for him," he watched for a reaction. Robert looked across at him, "he doesn't have to eat it all, but I expect you are a bit hungry, aren't you?" he grinned at the boy.

Robert looked up at him and gave a hesitant smile.

"That's the ticket," Lucien patted his shoulder, gently, and headed off to see if something could be found for mother and child to eat.

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Lucien felt drained when he opened his front door. There was a delicious smell of ham baking and the sound of chatter coming from the kitchen. At least he had some good news to tell the strays Jean had taken in. He looked through the hatch and smiled. Jean was showing Anne how to make potato salad; her way; Diane was slicing cucumber - admittedly a little haphazardly - and the younger ones were playing in the living room, within sight of the kitchen. Jean looked up and smiled.

"You all look very busy," he kissed Jean's cheek.

"How's Robert?" she asked, sensing Anne's need to know.

"Awake, and he should be tucking into some dinner," he took a piece of cucumber, "mum's staying with him, with luck he should be out of hospital tomorrow."

"That's good," Anne breathed a sigh of relief, though she wondered what would happen at home.

"It is, no rough and tumble for a while though," he nodded.

"That's ok, but I don't know what dad will think about that," she opened her eyes wide.

"I think you'd better speak to your mum about that."

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So, how will the Farmer's go forward. I hope to get back to more of Ted in the next chapter, as this story was supposed to be about him and Julia and the Blake's.


	20. Chapter 20

Sorry I've taken so long to add another chapter, the muse went walkabout. Hope you like it.

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Ted stretched and sighed. In spite of going to bed at his proper time, and everything being back to normal, he felt tired. His eyes were sore and his throat hurt.

"Ted?" Jean poked her nose into the bedroom, "not up yet love?"

He turned over to look at her, "mum," he croaked, "my throat and eyes hurt." He sniffed, he'd never been poorly before.

Jean went and sat on the edge of the bed, he did look flushed. She touched his forehead with the back of her hand, but it felt normal.

"Just let me get a thermometer, take your temperature," she patted his cheek and left him to wonder what a thermometer was. When she returned he was relieved to find it wasn't some strange instrument of his father's but a thin glass tube he'd seen Lucien use. She opened his pyjama top and slipped it under his arm and held it there for a couple of minutes, before taking it out and looking at it. She smiled, "you don't have a temperature," she bent over and kissed him. "How do you think you slept, last night, sweetheart?"

"Ok, but I had a funny dream," he lay back on the pillows.

Jean wondered if he would remember, he had had a night terror, and some children, her Jack for instance, never remembered the ones they have. She had done for Ted what she did for Jack, held him close, spoke to him softly and taken him into bed with her and Lucien until it subsided. He'd screamed for what seemed hours which could account for his sore throat and eyes. Still, she'd get Lucien to look at him before deciding if she should send him to school.

While Mattie got Julia up and dressed Lucien and Jean took Ted into his surgery where he sat on Jean's lap. Lucien cleaned Ted's eyes with a warm saline solution then looked closely at them.

"A touch of conjunctivitis, I think, Jean," he noted, "saline eye baths should see to that." He turned to Ted, "no touching or rubbing, young man, they'll be sore for a while, and don't let Julia poke your eyes, she might catch it."

"No school then, Lucien," Jean shifted the boy on her lap.

"No, best way to spread it around," he agreed, "now, open wide, let's have a look at your throat."

Ted obediently 'opened wide'.

"Hm ..." Lucien shone a light into his mouth and held his tongue down, "red, no inflamed tonsils, I think it's just because of your dream."

"How, dad? How can funny dreams give me a sore throat?"

"Your dream frightened you and you screamed, a lot," Lucien put his torch on the desk, "sometimes if this happens you don't remember it, but that's ok. Now cool drinks to soothe it, perhaps a teaspoon of honey after you have some breakfast."

"Some eggs, I think," Jean hugged him, "they're nice and soft, milk instead of orange juice."

"Capital," Lucien ruffled Ted's curls, "I'll check it again, this evening, unless it gets worse, son. You can also tell me if it gets better."

"Ok, dad," the boy smiled, "thank you."

"You are most welcome, Ted."

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While Ted ate his breakfast, Jean phoned the school to say Ted would not be in for a few days, due to his conjunctivitis.

"You know, Mrs Blake," the secretary noted, "that's the third case this morning."

"Oh, we thought it was because he had a night terror last night," Jean told her, "you know, rubbing his eyes on the pillow after his nose had run."

"Well, unless there is a plague of contagious night terrors ..." she suggested. "I'll let Miss Burns know."

"Thank you," Jean put the receiver down and went to tell Lucien he might get a few cases of pink eye coming through the surgery.

"Oh, bugger," he hissed, "here, you need this for Ted."

"I can make a saline solution, Lucien," she huffed, reading the bottle he handed to her.

"It's contact lens saline, just like tears, perfect for cleaning eyes," he sat back, "one of my patients wears them and after her son contracted pink eye she used it to clean his eyes. Worked a treat."

"Oh, well, in that case ..."

"Saves you dissolving salt four times a day," he pushed up from his chair and kissed her cheek. She grinned back.

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Jean was right when she said there would be a run on pink eye treatment. All schoolchildren. Lucien and Mattie's advice for all was the same as that for Ted. There were some parents who wondered why they didn't prescribe the eye drops but they were told they weren't really necessary, unless it persisted.

"I wonder where it started," Mattie sipped a cup of tea as they discussed the days lists, "like head lice, it all starts with one person."

"Oh please, not head lice," Jean groaned, "can you imagine trying to get them out of Julia's curls?"

Mattie shuddered.

"Did the boys have them?" Lucien asked, blowing over his cup.

"Jack did," she gazed into the air, "he wouldn't sit still to have his hair combed, and shampooed so, in the end I did the only thing I could ..."

Mattie looked at her, waiting for the punch line.

"... I shaved his little head. All his lovely dark curls lay on the kitchen floor, it was awful. He hated me for that," she sighed.

"Well I'm sure we can find a better remedy than that, if ours get them," Lucien reached over and squeezed her hand.

Jean put her cup down and sighed, "well, this won't get the dinner made or Ted's eyes bathed."

"I'll do the eyes, if you like," Mattie offered, "and I can take a look at his throat, too."

"Thanks, Mattie," Jean took the cups to the sink and thought about Jack, she hadn't heard from him for such a long time. With Christopher overseas he hadn't either, she hoped he was alright.

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Ted returned to school after a few days. His eyes cleared up just as his father had said they would and his dreams, while still unsettling, didn't cause him to have night terrors. Most of them involved Ramsay and Mr Farmer alternating, telling him big boys didn't cry.

It took some very gentle probing by Jean and Lucien to get the stories from him, but it was seeing Lucien shed some tears over a death, the death of a child; though that was kept from the little boy; that helped him see that even the strongest of men could cry. He believed his father was a strong man, from all he had seen him do over the time he had lived with the Blake's, nearly a year, his father was the strongest man he knew.

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Matthew and Alice decided they would explain to Ted about him leaving the Blake's house. Up to now they had only told Jean and Lucien they were getting married, and asked they keep it quiet for a while. Alice suggested an ice cream, after school at the end of the week.

"That will give him the weekend to process the information," she smiled one evening, over whisky.

"Well, it's not as if I'll never see him again," Matthew huffed, "we're over there often enough."

True," she sat back and thought, "I wonder how Julia will take it, you not coming home each night?" she thought back to the day the Blake's had returned from their trip to Torquay. How she had wandered around looking for 'Maffoo' and sat down in a huff when she was told he was at work.

"Perhaps I should start going home after she goes to bed, or not going home at all, sometimes," he raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips in thought, "get her used to it."

"Perhaps,' she smirked in agreement.

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"You don't have to keep treating Ted to ice cream every time you need to explain something to him," Jean sighed, as Alice put the suggestion to her.

"I know," she smiled, "but ice cream is my secret vice." She raised an eyebrow.

"Well, well, well," Jean laughed, "who'd have thought Dr Alice Harvey has a thing for ice cream!"

"I was never allowed it as a child," she shrugged, "like everything forbidden it becomes a craving. I can control it, you know, now that I can have it when I want. In fact, I don't have it very often, honestly." She tipped her head and tried to look innocent.

"I'll believe you," Jean folded her arms and tried to look severe, which only served to make Alice smile more, "alright, Friday, you can pick him up from school."

"Thanks Jean," she relaxed, "I don't think it will be that hard for him to understand, he told me, that last time I picked him up that Matthew loved me, and asked if I loved him. He thought Matthew was protecting me from something, when he came over in the evening."

"Oh, goodness, Alice, I am so sorry," Jean gasped at his nerve, "he shouldn't have spoken to you like that."

"Which is precisely why I didn't say anything, I wasn't offended but I knew you wouldn't approve of him being so forthright."

"He's six, Alice," she pursed her lips, "he shouldn't speak to an adult like that."

"Jean, calm down," Alice was bitterly regretting saying anything about the incident, "I happen to be glad he did, he helped me understand how I really feel about Matthew. Please don't be cross with him, I could have stopped him, told him not to be cheeky, but he made me see that I can be who I am, and be accepted - he told me never to change, that I am 'fun' the way I am."

"I suppose ..."

"How many children are that comfortable with an adult that isn't a parent to point out the obvious without being rude?" Alice continued, "even with a parent, not many children are that honest. I bet that, when he was with Pat he daren't say anything, or he would have told her that she should leave Ramsay. You've made him stronger and that's a good thing, believe me."

"Ok, ok, I won't say anything to him," Jean surrendered with a sigh, "but I hope he doesn't do it again."

Alice made a mental note not to say anything if he did, but sort it out herself. But, truly, she was grateful to him, for helping her towards her decision to accept Matthew's proposal.

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This time Ted was expecting Alice to pick him up, but he wasn't sure if he was going to get an ice cream, it'd be nice, though.

"Hello, Ted," Alice held her hand out, "good day?"

He took her hand and smiled, "yes thank you, was yours?"

"It was ok," she nodded, "nothing special."

"Why are you picking me up, Auntie Alice?" he asked as they walked towards the centre of town, "mum said you want to talk to me. I haven't done something wrong, have I?"

"Not as far as I am aware," Alice steered him into the ice cream parlour, "I just wanted a chat. Ice cream?"

"Ooh, yes please," he grinned.

They sat in the corner again, and Ted tucked into his ice while she drank tea, as she said to Jean, she didn't have to have ice cream, but ... oh why not? She called the waitress over and ordered herself a scoop or two.

"So, what do you want to chat about?" Ted tipped his head to one side and watched Alice savour the first taste of ice cream she had had for some time. He noticed she closed her eyes and very slowly allowed the dessert to melt in her mouth. She opened her eyes and grinned at him, "it's been a while."

He giggled.

"Anyway, Ted, it's about me and Uncle Matthew," she stuck her spoon in the bowl, lifting a mouthful and holding it ready, "you told me that he loves me and asked me if I love him."

"You said you do," Ted paused over his bowl, "have you changed your mind?"

While pondering that he was rather grown up for a six year old, she had to be honest with him, "no Ted, I haven't, and, Uncle Matthew has asked me to marry him."

"Really?" Ted's eyes opened wide, "you are going to, aren't you?"

"Of course, but it means that he will be leaving your house," she watched for a reaction.

"Oh, I see," he thought, slowly licking his spoon, "where will he go?"

"He'll come to live at my house, of course," she answered, honestly, wondering where he thought he would be going.

"I suppose that's right, isn't it? I mean if you are married," he hummed.

"Well, yes, it would be a bit silly if we didn't live together, there wouldn't be much point in getting married, would there?"

"Will you come and see us, both of you?" his bottom lip trembled.

"Oh Ted, of course we will, often," she reached over and stroked his cheek, "in fact you'll probably see just as much of us as you do now."

"Right, ok then," Ted sniffed, "good."

"I just wanted you to know that Matthew and I still want to be part of your family," Alice thought she had upset him and wondered if it had been such a good idea, to talk to him, "your mum says we are all family."

"Will you have children, Auntie Alice?" he bit his bottom lip thinking he shouldn't ask, but he needed to know, for some odd reason.

"Erm ... " she blushed, she hadn't thought about it, not on what she had told Matthew was her 'to do' list, and her age was against her, just, "we don't know," was the best she could come up with, "sometimes it doesn't happen, but that doesn't matter for us, anyway," she lied, they hadn't even discussed it, and anyway, it was not a subject for a six year old.

"Ok," Ted seemed satisfied with this answer and turned his attention back to his ice cream, as did Alice. She wondered if Ted would say something to Jean, about her and Matthew 'not knowing' if they would have children. She rather hoped not, as Jean would not be happy that he had brought the subject up and she would hate for Ted to get into trouble for honest questions. However, she didn't want to warn him, that it was a secret between the two of them, that would be wrong.

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Now that Ted knew, Matthew felt it safe to talk about his impending marriage to Alice. Jean suggested he polish his medals, if he was going to wear his uniform.

"I don't think so, Jean," he smirked, "they'll weigh me down."

"You earned them, Matthew," she pointed out, "you should be proud of them."

"I'm just part of the team, Jean," he hummed, "we all earned them."

"You lead the team, Matthew," she sat next to him and took his hand, "without you there is no team, so I think that you should wear them and show Alice just how proud you are to lead them."

Matthew's eyes filled with tears, much to his embarrassment, "Bloody hell, Jean," he hissed, "you know how to get to a bloke."

She patted his arm and went back to the kitchen to prepare dinner, smiling. Unbeknown to Matthew, Alice had asked Jean to suggest it to him, she had actually never seen his medals though his ribbons were on his uniform.

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Alice seemed preoccupied, Matthew thought, had been for a couple of days - since talking to Ted, in fact. He decided he'd better find out if the boy had said something inappropriate.

"No, well Jean would think so, but he was just being a child," she shook her head when he asked her.

"Well, something's on your mind," he took her hand, "you've been deep in thought these past two days."

"it's nothing," she sighed and leant on his shoulder.

"You said he's ok, with me leaving the house, he understands," he continued to probe.

"Yes, when I assured him we would still be around, that he would probably see as much of us as usual.," she agreed, "it's just, well Jean worries about him saying things he shouldn't and I'd rather she didn't hear it from me ..."

"...hear what?" really she could be infuriating at times, talking in riddles as if he could read her mind.

"...that he asked if we were going to have children," she watched for a reaction, it was something they should have discussed. He might want children, again, "I told him I didn't know, that it didn't always happen."

"Alice, I've done that, I have the girls, even if I never see them," he shrugged, realising she knew precious little about his life or family, "but, if you want to try ..."

Alice thought about that for a moment. Did she want to try? They could, of course, let nature decide. They had been taking precautions up to now, that had just been sensible because it was possible, just ... oh, hell! She hated conversations like these.

"I don't know, I think I'd make a lousy mother," she mused, "I've never really had the need to think about it. Did you ... the first time?"

"No, we were young, naive ... " he sat back on the couch and drew him to her, "... we married in Melbourne. I was just a constable at the time, at St Kilda ..."

"How did you meet?"

"She was a witness in a hit and run," he stared ahead, the pictures had become blurred over time, "but it was after the case. She seemed to be wherever I was on patrol, or getting a pie from the cart, I suppose she chased me. Marriage was a ridiculous idea, on my wages, but we went ahead, anyway. We lived in a little two bedroomed place, then Peg caught quickly with Joyce ... marriage, children, it just seemed to happen ... we didn't plan anything. Louise was born five years later, Peg had had several misses in between times, nobody told us it would be better if we stopped with just the one. Peg didn't want an only child, I was swayed by her ..." his eyes filled with tears.

Alice took his hand and kissed it, "you don't have to tell me anymore, if you don't want to."

"It's alright, it was a long time ago, and you should know more about me than you do." He inhaled, steeled himself to tell the rest of the tale. "She had a hell of a time with Louise. The pregnancy was awful, Lou came early and we nearly lost her, Peg ... well she only lived to see Lou turn a year ... her heart gave out with the strain of the misses and the final go."

"You brought them up, alone?"

"No, mum, with Vera's help, I brought them back to Ballarat," he looked so hurt. "At first I blamed Louise ... that wasn't fair, it wasn't her fault, it was ours. Peg wouldn't give up until Joyce had a brother or sister. Anyway, Vera moved out and married, had Rose, Mum raised my girls until they were able to fend for themselves, I helped, with money, half my wages each month then I moved back here. Then the war, by the time I came home from that we were almost strangers. They moved away, to find work." He sounded bitter.

"You do hear from them, though, don't you?" she asked gently, bitterness aside, she could see he regretted not being there for his girls.

"Christmas, birthdays, mainly, the odd letter. They have their friends, Joyce is married but she told me after the event, said she knew I'd be too busy. I'm always too busy ..." he looked down at her, "Alice, if we did, try for a baby, that is ..."

"... I doubt it would happen, and if it did, well ... let's not try, let's just have fun with the knowledge that all things are possible and medicine has changed, improved since then." There was that tiny part of her, hardly noticeable, that would like to give Matthew a child, but he appeared afraid of losing her, like he had lost Peg.

"I don't want to lose you, too, Alice," he held her tight.

"You won't," she stroked his cheek, "now, are you going home or ..." there was a naughty glint in her eye.

"Well ..." he started to smile again, "as I nipped into the chemist shame to let them go to waste."

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The conversation with Alice, about family, set Matthew thinking. He should get in touch with his daughters. Leaving them with his mother, while he was in Melbourne had seemed to be the right thing to do, in fact, his mother had said it was, and, still raw from the loss of Peg, he had let her steer him. When he had seen the girls they had seemed happy, he would take them little gifts, they would show him what they had done at school, but somehow, he felt removed from them. They didn't seem like his daughters, anymore, perhaps nieces - just that little bit removed. As he had said to Alice, the war had intervened, and when he returned they were teenagers, socialising with friends of their own age, too busy to see dad when he was around. Well, if Alice could re-connect with her sister, after an even rockier early life, perhaps he should try. He wrote to Vera and explained, that he was getting married, he would like to introduce her to Alice and suggested that Joyce and Louise join them one weekend. He wrote similarly to each of his daughters.

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In her living room in Melbourne, Vera Anderson read the letter and smiled. It was about time he found someone. She asked Rose about Alice and received a favourable biography, Alice, Rose reported, was the best thing that had happened to Uncle Matthew in a long time.

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"Three letters for you today, Matthew," Jean raised an eyebrow, "spreading our social wings are we?" she teased.

He harrumphed, "catching up with family, the wedding ..." he took the letters and headed to his bedroom to read them in private.

Vera's letter was positive. She admitted she had asked Rose about Dr Harvey and was intrigued to meet her. She had heard from Joyce, who was too like her father for her own good and had huffed and puffed about her own social schedule being disrupted.

"Joyce, he could have got married without telling you, like you did to him," Vera had sighed over the phone, "he's trying ..."

"...very..." Joyce tutted.

"That's not fair ... you hurt him, you know, when you didn't even let him know you were getting married, much less invite him. Now I suggest you haul yourself and Louise over to Ballarat, bring Jim, if you want, and meet his fiancée."

"I hope she's not some simpering bit of fluff he's picked up," Joyce huffed.

"I've never met her, Rose likes her," Vera knew a lot more, from Rose, but she thought Joyce could do with a bit of a wake-up call about her father. Only Vera knew how hard it had been for him, after Peg died. Anyway, 'simpering bits of fluff' were not her brother's type.

The letter from Joyce, on behalf of her and her sister, agreed they would meet, and, if he was free, how about two weekends hence? That would be two weeks before the wedding. Noting that Joyce was bringing her husband he realised he would at last meet his son in law, a senior sergeant in the Armidale force. He found it vaguely amusing she had married a copper.

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Ted was disappointed that Matthew wouldn't be in the crowd for his last soccer match.

"Sorry, mate," Matthew patted his shoulder, "I have to meet my sister and my girls off the train."

"Ok," it would be the first time Matthew had missed a match, "are they staying at our house?"

"No, too many of them, and your mum has enough to do," he grinned, Jean had apologised for not having the room to put them all up. He had told her he didn't expect her to, but did accept an invitation, on his family's behalf, to lunch on the Sunday. He thought Alice might feel a bit more comfortable there, after meeting Vera and the girls for dinner at the Royal Cross Hotel.

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Alice stood in front of the mirror, deciding that the dress Matthew had asked her to wear was right for dinner at the hotel. It was an elegant, slim fitting dress in pale blue satin, draped over the left hip with a self coloured embroidered flower and leaf motif. Elbow length sleeves and a 'V' neckline with shawl collar, it was his favourite of her cocktail dresses, not that she owned many, two, in fact. The only jewellery she wore was the engagement ring he had insisted he present her with, a sapphire and diamond cluster. He had arranged that a taxi would pick her up and he would drive her back after the meal, he knew she was nervous, meeting new people was not her favourite activity. Certainly not like this, it would be easier at the Blake's where she was already at home and the children could distract her, but, as she had said, that would be unfair on his family.

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Matthew had alerted the receptionist at the hotel and she was greeted politely and shown to the lounge, where he had positioned himself so he could see the door, and therefore her, when she arrived. He pushed himself out of the chair and limped over to her, taking her hand and kissing her softly.

"Alright, love?" he whispered.

"I think so," she smiled hesitantly.

"Rose has come over too, so we have backup," he turned and put his arm round her waist and they moved to the group of women waiting.

"Oh, good, I think," she murmured.

Vera had a good idea what to expect, having grilled Rose and was not surprised to meet a good looking smartly dressed woman, not the 'simpering bit of fluff', Joyce was still sure had ensnared her father. Louise hadn't said much on the subject, she had reluctantly attended because Joyce told her they would never hear the last of it from Aunt Vera.

"Alice," Vera smiled, "it's so nice to meet you, Rose has told me so much about you."

Alice wasn't sure how much of that was true but she accepted the comment the way it was given.

Matthew introduced his two daughters; Joyce nodded, it would seem she was wrong. The woman before her was poised, late thirties, early forties and did not simper or giggle girlishly. She introduced her husband, a tall, reasonably well built man with a strong handshake and open smile. When the letter had come through he had said it was about time he met his father in law and he was looking forward to a weekend away. Louise sniffed and was just about able to touch Alice's hand. Alice decided to ignore the coldness, she would either come round or she wouldn't, it was Matthew she was marrying. She had waited a long time to meet that special someone and she wasn't going to let one young woman spoil that.

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Once they were eating the flow of conversation started. Vera, seeing how difficult Louise was being, chatted easily to her future sister in law. Rose had told her Alice had some interesting traits and was known to be socially awkward at times, but this time she answered any questions politely, didn't go on about the latest corpse in the morgue and asked gently probing questions about Matthew as a child.

Seeing his sister engaging with Alic,e Matthew turned his attention to Joyce and Jim, apologising for missing the wedding, now was not the time to point out he would have made time in his schedule to give his daughter away. He found Jim a good solid soul, with a sense of humour - he and Joyce seemed a well matched pair. There was never a quiet moment during the meal, many stories were told, Rose chipping in with more recent anecdotes and Alice noting, to Vera, that Matthew was a rotten patient when he was injured by the car.

"He always was," Vera laughed, "even with a cut knee or a bumped head. Mum used to corner him in the kitchen to clean and bandage his injuries."

"I'll bear that in mind," Alice smiled.

As dessert came to an end and Matthew fed Alice, most embarrassingly, the last strawberry on his plate, Louise rolled her eyes and excused herself, saying she was going to bed.

"Long journey," she placed her napkin on her plate and pushed her chair back.

Matthew stood as the others bade her goodnight, and followed her to the door. Alice noticed him hold her arm, fairly firmly, and speak sternly to her.

"I don't know what your game is, young lady," he hissed, "you have been rude to Alice, she has done you no harm. She is going to be my wife, so you'd better get used to the idea."

"We hardly see you," she snarled back, "why should I care."

"You hardly see me because you don't want to," he reminded her, "ever since you left school, and even before, you have avoided me."

Louise glared and pulled her arm away, "goodnight ... dad," she snapped back and strode out of the room.

"Excuse me, ladies," Alice pushed her chair back and went over to him, "come on, Matthew, coffee."

"Alice I ..."

"No, you don't need to apologise," she read his mind, "it doesn't matter. Now, come back to the table, if you're a good boy, I'll reward you later," she smiled.

"I like the idea of that," he grinned, "I hope she's better behaved at the Blake's tomorrow."

"Oh, Ted'll bring her round," Alice laughed.

"I could give her to Jean, to sort out," he suggested, with a smile.

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"Act your age," Vera admonished Louise, as they headed to the Blake's. It was a lovely morning so they had walked in spite of the distance. Jim didn't know Ballarat and Vera wanted to see if it had changed. "You are not a teenager anymore so stop sulking. No wonder your dad gave up trying to keep in touch, with both of you," she shot a separate look at Joyce.

"You're right, Aunt Vera," Joyce nodded, "he did his best. I think I worked it out after I married Jim, how the force works, or not, for families. I should have at least told him I was getting married, and given him the opportunity to make his own mind up."

"He wasn't likely to interrogate you," Vera turned to Jim, "as long as you assured him you would look after her, that would be enough for him."

"I have no worries on that score, after last night," Jim agreed, "in fact, I suggested to Joyce that we make more of an effort to see him."

"He left us with Gran," Louise complained.

"What else was he supposed to do?" Vera appealed to her, "he couldn't afford a housekeeper, your Gran said it was the best way, and, given how upset he was over your mum's death it seemed reasonable. He sent money to keep you, he lived in a boarding house, just so he could. When he got his post here he lived with you, supported you. Hell, Louise, who paid your speeding fines?"

"What if they have kids?" Louise grumbled.

"Alice, have children?" Rose threw her head back and roared with laughter, "seriously?"

"All things are possible, Rose," Vera looked at her from under her brows, "she's not too old."

"I know that, mum," she agreed, "but, when you get to know her, Alice is not the motherly type."

"That aside, Louise," Vera turned back to her niece, "what does it matter to you. Or are you expecting something when he goes?"

Louise coloured, that was precisely what she was thinking.

"Well, at the moment I wouldn't say you deserve anything, the way you are behaving and the way you ignore him, both of you." Vera tossed her head, knowing very well what Matthew's current will contained, "now, keep your mealy mouthed ideas to yourself, smile and enjoy the day."

Nothing more was said on the matter, Rose pointed out Alice's little bungalow, "do you think we should call, walk up together?" Joyce asked, noting how neat and precise the garden was, thinking that was her father's doing.

"Probably already there," Rose thought quickly, not knowing if her uncle had stayed the night, "Alice sometimes helps Jean with preparing meals."

Vera looked at her and raised an eyebrow, Rose replied the same, and it wasn't about Alice's cooking, their silent conversation. Vera grinned, "the old devil," she whispered.

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Alice and Matthew were indeed already at the Blake's. When Jean had shown Ted the bag of peas that would need podding he specifically asked Auntie Alice if she would make the chute out of newspaper again and help him.

So there they sat, in the kitchen, Ted with his own paper chute, shelling peas and giggling as Julia toddled round collecting the ones that missed the bowl. Lucien and Matthew stood watching their ladies and talking about how the evening had gone, how his daughters had reacted and what Jim was like.

"Good bloke," Matthew nodded, "strange she married a copper, given how it took me away from them so much. Still, if he ever fancied a move ..."

"Family business, Matthew?" Jean looked up from turning the roast.

"Sometimes it feels like preventing and solving crime here is a family business, Jean," Matthew laughed, "with you and your nuggets of information, your husband and my fiancée working out the how and when ... Blake and Lawson, incorporated, Ballarat."

"Blake, Harvey and Lawson, surely?" Jean looked at Alice.

"No, Jean, Blake and Lawson, though it does sound like a dodgy firm of solicitors," Alice corrected her, shyly.

It had occurred to Jean that Alice would keep her own name, not take Matthew's but it would seem she had surprised her again.

A knock on the door prevented any discussion on the matter, "I'll go," Lucien pushed himself away from the table with his backside and headed off up the hall. Matthew watched him go. Vera had asked about him, she hadn't seen him in years, not since school, and even then he was Matthew's friend, she just admired from afar. He opened the door, Julia on his hip, she had followed him, ever curious.

"Vera!" he grinned, "you haven't changed a bit!"

"Flatterer, Lucien," she smiled back, "you have."

"Ah well, life, fatherhood ..." he stood back, "come in, welcome."

"I meant the beard," she teased, "it's lovely to see you, after all these years."

"You too," he turned to the guests, "hello Rose," he reached over for a hug.

"Hello, doctor," she hugged him, tight, "you're looking well."

"You too, my dear."

Vera introduced Matthew's daughters and son in law, they shook hands and Lucien introduced Julia, saying his son, Ted, was shelling peas with Aunty Alice.

"That, I have to see," Rose laughed and headed, unbidden down to the kitchen, where she knew Jean would be, and probably Uncle Matthew.

It was blatantly obvious to Rose that Alice had changed, seeing her actively engaged with a six year old boy, and he hanging on every word. Maybe motherhood was not out of the question, after all. Suddenly she missed Ballarat, very much.

"Rose!" Jean turned and grinned, "good to see you."

"And you Jean, I've missed this," Rose sighed.

"Mum," Ted held out the bowl, "we've done the peas."

"Thank you, sweetie," she smiled, taking the bowl, "now wash your hands, please, and you can say hello to Rose."

Ted eyed the red haired woman standing with Uncle Matthew, she looked quite smiley, and he could see why Julia reminded Matthew of her.

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With introductions made, Rose helped Ted set the table, Vera laughed at Julia sitting on 'Maffoo's' knee in the living room and making him read a rag book to her and Lucien poured drinks for anyone that wanted one. Ted was happy to stay in the kitchen, getting to know Rose and out of the way of too many new faces.

"Jean, this looks lovely," Rose smiled as she put a dish of vegetables on the table, "doesn't it, Ted?"

"Yes, can I sit next to you, Rose?" he touched her hand.

"Er, yes, unless your mum wants you to sit somewhere else, I'd be delighted," she looked over at Jean.

"That's fine," Jean nodded and passed another dish over, "will you go and tell everybody dinner's ready, Ted, please."

"Ok," he trotted into the living room and over to his father. "Dad, dinner's ready, mum says."

"Lovely," he put his hand on his shoulder, "ladies, Matthew, shall we?"

Matthew looked at his little friend, then up at Alice. She grinned and bent down to relieve him of his burden.

"Come on, Miss," she laughed, placing Julia on the floor, "into mummy."

Julia giggled and toddled into the kitchen, "mama! Dinner!" she called. Arriving at the high chair she tried to climb in.

"Just a minute, Julia," Jean grabbed her, "you'll have that over!" She lifted her up and settled her in her seat.

"Maffoo!" Julia pointed to the seat next to hers.

Matthew limped over, laughing and dutifully sat down.

"Well, dad," Joyce grinned standing beside him, "looks like Alice has competition."

"Sit down and don't be daft," he pulled her into the seat next to him.

The rest found seats, Ted managed to sit next to his new friend, Rose, and Louise found herself next to the doctor and opposite Jean. It was a tight squeeze but everybody managed to eat and drink, talk and laugh. The children were included, Ted was allowed to talk about the last football match, saying he was going to try cricket, next.

"Sporty one, eh?" Jim took a mouthful of roast lamb, "what next?"

"I don't know," Lucien smiled, "rugby, maybe, when he moves up."

"Good game," Jim agreed, "you play?"

"No choice when we were at school eh, Matthew?" he raised his glass to his friend, "cricket, too. Matthew was better than me."

"Really?"

"Yes, much," the doctor grinned, "I boxed."

Jean shuddered at the thought of Ted taking up the gloves and hoped he wouldn't try to follow his father.

"Have you got Joyce on the tennis courts, Jim?" Matthew asked, a wicked look in his eye.

"Dad, no," Joyce hissed, "please."

"I haven't," he looked interested, "should I?"

"Captain of the tennis team at school," Matthew grinned at his daughter, "could've made the state team."

Joyce had the good grace to blush.

"Well, I'll be blowed, love," her husband laughed, "you kept that quiet. I'll challenge you when we get home."

"Brave man," Matthew shook his head.

Lucien turned to Louise, somehow left out of the sports memories, and asked her what her hidden talent was.

"I don't have one," she whispered, "I work at an animal sanctuary, with birds of prey."

"Really?" Alice turned, "that must be really interesting."

Louise shrugged, "I fly the birds, displays and such."

"To be able to train them is quite a talent, Louise," Lucien insisted, "I suppose you have to gain their trust."

She would not be drawn on the subject, even when Ted asked what birds of prey were.

"Eagles, hawks, that kind of thing, son," Lucien wondered what Louise's problem was. She could give Matthew a run for his money in the 'grumpy stakes' he thought. "Have a look to see if we have any books after lunch."

"Ok, dad," satisfied with the answer, from his father, he carried on eating his dinner and talking to Rose.

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While Rose helped Jean wash up and the visitors chatted in the living room Alice slipped into the garden. Matthew found her sitting in a garden chair staring into space.

"Peace and quiet," he stood behind her.

"Mmm ..."

"You ok?"

"A little tired, trouble sleeping ..." a little smile tugged at her lips.

"Blaming me ..?"

"If the cap fits ..." she turned and shielded her eyes from the afternoon sun, "Matthew," she sighed, "I know I said I wasn't bothered about Louise, and I shouldn't criticise your family, but she wasn't very nice to Ted, and he's only a child."

"Yeah, I noticed that," he pulled another chair across and sat facing her. "Honestly, she always was sulky, but that was just plain mean, he asked a perfectly reasonable question. She always liked animals and I'm glad she does something that suits her, but if she truly loved what she is doing she wouldn't shut up about it."

"I think she's trying to make you feel bad, for some perverse reason."

"Perverse, maybe, she certainly didn't like Julia cuddling up on my knee before lunch, it's as if she's worried we'll start a family and she won't get anything from my will, when I go." He'd managed to catch a quick word with Vera before they sat down in the living room.

"Well, if that's her thinking wouldn't it be better if she was nicer to you and your friends?" she leant forward and took his hand, "not to mention your fiancée."

He leant forward to kiss her.

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Louise stood in the sun room watching her father and Alice, now deep in a long, passionate kiss. That could have been her with her lover back at the sanctuary. It was the only time they could be together, he being a married man, and here she was, dragged to some kind of family reunion that she wasn't interested in.

Ted had found a book with birds in it and went to find Louise, who, he was sure, would explain about how she trained them.

"Excuse me, miss," he daren't call her by her first name, she was more scary that Auntie Alice was when he first met her, "are these the birds you train?" He held the book out.

"What? Yes." She turned away.

"How do you do it?"

"Bribery, now get lost," she hissed.

Ted's eyes filled with tears, nobody told him to get lost, even if they didn't want to answer his questions directly, his parents, Alice and Matthew always gave him some kind of answer, and he didn't like the way she was watching the couple in the garden.

"You're mean!" he yelled, "and stop staring at Uncle Matthew and Auntie Alice, it's rude!"

Matthew pulled away from Alice and looked towards the sun room. Ted's voice had caught his attention and, squinting in the sunshine, he could see Louise bending down apparently shouting at him.

"Excuse me, love," he pushed up from the seat and limped to see what was going on. He got there just as Louise was telling Ted to keep his nose out of her business ...

"Louise!" he snapped, "what's going on?"

She turned and glared.

"Ted, I need to talk to my daughter, go in to mum and dad, please," he turned to the little boy.

"Ok, Uncle Matthew," he sniffed and ran back to seek comfort with his parents.

Matthew waited until Ted had gone back into the house then turned to his daughter.

"I don't know what your idea is, my girl," he glowered, "but you can stop it now. I am marrying Alice, whether you like it or not. It's been a long time since I felt strongly enough about a woman to even consider remarrying and it's been over twenty years since your mother died."

"You left us," she huffed back.

"I left you with your Gran," he reminded her, "would you have preferred I leave you at the local orphanage? Your Gran loved you, I couldn't take care of two little girls and work at the same time. I did what I thought was best, at the time. You act like I abandoned you. I took the post here, just so I could be with you, after the war. I know that by then you were older, didn't want a father interfering in your lives, but I was always here for you - it's you that went away, Louise, not me."

"Well I've made my own life, without you," she sniffed.

"Good god, girl, you make me sound like an ex-lover, not your father," he stared at her, "I want you to have your own life, make your own friends, but that doesn't mean I want you out of mine," he watched for a reaction and all he got was a glare. "If you don't want to be part of this family, that's your choice, Louise, not mine. I will be here, when you want me, or need me, but I am not going to chase after you."

"Dad, Lou," Joyce peeked into the sun room, "everything ok?"

Louise turned and stormed through into the kitchen, snatched her handbag from the side and strode up the hall and out of the front door.

"Looks like Louise and I are never going to get on, Joyce," he touched her arm, I'd better go and apologise to Jean. Is Ted alright?"

"Yes, I think so," she took a step into his arms, "she'll come round, one day."

"I don't know what I've done to her," he slumped into the chair Jean used when she wanted some quiet time, "did I get it so bloody wrong, Joyce? Leaving you with Gran?"

"No, dad, you didn't, and I can see that now," she smiled up at him, "I'm sorry for being a bit of an idiot, we had a good childhood, we wanted for nothing and that was your doing. When you came back, to Ballarat, we must have been horrible teenage girls ..."

"...actually, you weren't that bad, but then you were off with your friends most of the time and I was working."

"Thanks dad, good to know we weren't that bad," she grinned, "perhaps we should have made more effort."

"That's in the past, Joyce," he kissed her forehead.

"Yeah, let's look forward, eh? I'm glad you found Alice, I think you make quite a pair."

"We do, do we?" he laughed, "well, that's good, I think."

"It is."

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Alice joined Matthew in the sun room when she saw Joyce leave him. She had seen the confrontation with Louise but was pleased to see at least Joyce was happy. She didn't say anything, just held his hand and lay her head on his shoulder.

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Rose and Vera, together with Jim, had explained to Ted how Louise would train a bird of prey, and how she would show them off to visitors to the sanctuary. He was happy with their explanations but was visibly shaken when Louise stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind her.

"Don't worry about her, Ted," Rose ruffled his hair, "always was a bit of a grump. Tell you what," she had a thought as to how she could cheer him up, "I brought my camera, hoping to get some pictures of everybody, would you like to see if you can take some, maybe of Uncle Matthew and Auntie Alice?"

"Really?" his eyes brightened, "I'll be very careful."

"Come on then, let's sneak up on them," she held out her hand, "bet Auntie Alice doesn't like having her picture taken."

"No, she doesn't," he giggled. "Dad took one of her podding peas, in the kitchen ... it was funny."

"Now that I'd like to see, though I did catch her today, just not on film."

Everybody headed out to the garden.

"They've had enough time, on their own," Vera smirked, "time to invade their peace."

Jean poured a jug of lemonade, and put some glasses on a tray for Lucien to carry out for them, and the relaxed atmosphere, sunshine and flowers meant that nobody took any notice when Ted or Rose took photographs of them sitting, or standing, lazing about on the grass and chatting. Rose promised to send him copies of all the ones he took and some she did too. A tray of biscuits, cakes and small sandwiches made their appearance, as if by magic, and everyone nibbled and drank until it began to cool. Julia wandered over to Jean and climbed onto her knee, snuggling down and closing her eyes as the day took its toll on her. In five minutes she was fast asleep.

"We'd better be heading off," Vera stood up, "I can't remember the last time I had such a lovely day. Thank you, Jean and Lucien, I think I speak for all of us when I say we've had a truly lovely time."

Nobody mentioned Louise.

"You're most welcome," Jean smiled, "it's a long time since we had so many in the house, we must do it again."

"It's a lot of work for you," Vera pointed out.

"Oh, I'm sure I can press gang a few into helping," she looked at Alice then turned to Lucien.

"Of course, Jean," he grinned, "at least I can wash up."

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They watched the party wander down the drive and Jean sighed.

"You know, that really was so nice, to have so many round the table," she cradled her sleeping daughter, "I meant it when I said we should do it again."

"Will Louise come, mum?" Ted was swung into Lucien's arms.

"Unlikely, son," Lucien hugged him, "I don't think she's a family sort."

"I like Rose," he smiled, "she's funny, and she let me use her camera."

"I noticed, I wonder how your pictures will turn out."

"Not as good as hers," he stuck his lower lip out, "she said she'd send me some."

"We look forward to seeing them, but now," Jean smiled, softly, "bed."

"Yes, mum," he agreed, stifling a yawn.

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Vera and the family left Alice and Matthew standing at the end of Alice's drive. Matthew said they would send an invitation to the wedding.

"It would be lovely to have you there," Alice agreed, "it's been such a lovely day, I'm so glad we managed to get together."

"So am I, dear," Vera touched her arm, gently, "so am I. It's good to see my brother happy"

Alice smiled and, as they disappeared from view, she and Matthew headed up the drive and into the house.

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This is a much longer chapter than I anticipated, 'planned' is a bit strong. I remembered Matthew intimating he had daughters in the episode where the Rock singer is killed, talking about young Peggy who told her father she was expecting Bobby Lee's baby. Something about not having as much trouble with his girls? So I thought it would be nice to bring them into the story as he is getting married - perhaps he'd like them at the wedding, and as Alice has made a connection with her sister he could reach out to his family - sorry, I'm waffling!


	21. Chapter 21

Aunt Dorothy mentioned that Thomas was her favourite brother, assuming that she wasn't being sarcastic and he wasn't her only brother...

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Ted was still reeling from his first proper Christmas when he started back at school. He had had such a long break and had done so much. First, there had been writing his letter to Father Christmas, asking for more track and rolling stock for his train set, perhaps some more books, his own cricket bat and ball, and a new football as his old one had a puncture. Because Julia was too young to write her own list he had asked if she might have some more toys, perhaps another doll, but he wasn't sure - he'd leave that up to Father Christmas to decide. All in all, Jean thought, it wasn't a long list, and the bit about Julia's gifts made her smile.

It would seem Father Christmas was in agreement with his parents and the little boy was delighted to find, under the tree, and beside it, all he had asked for. Julia did receive more toys, he was relieved to see, a new doll and a stroller for it, a tea set and a doll's house complete with family.

Then there was Christmas day with the special lunch; Uncle Matthew and Auntie Alice, fresh from their honeymoon, had joined them, as had Sergeant Hobart. Ted had asked why he was there, he wasn't usually.

"Sergeant Hobart has been coming to Christmas lunch for a couple of years now, Ted, he has no family and it's not right he be alone on Christmas day," Jean had explained, "you don't mind do you?"

"No, I quite like him, when he plays footie in the park."

It was true, she thought, both her children had found the soft side of the Senior Sergeant.

The following days had been spent playing cricket on the drive - Lucien had drawn stumps on the garage wall - with dad underarm bowling for him and Julia trying to catch the ball when he managed to hit it. There had been walks and picnics and lazy days in the garden.

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"You do realise he's rather spoilt, don't you?" Jean sighed as she slipped into bed on Christmas night.

"Probably," Lucien opened his arms for her, "but, honestly, nothing he has been given will be ignored."

"I know, and really, you spoiled me too," she held out her hand to admire the diamond and sapphire eternity ring he had given her. "Best take it off," she hummed, "don't want to scratch you overnight."

"If you're going to do that can I take off the other present I gave you?" he grinned wickedly, referring to the sheer silk nightdress that, in the right light, left absolutely nothing to the imagination, she was so glad he had given it to her in private, opening it in front of Bill would have been extremely embarrassing.

"Oh," she giggled back, "I think I might make you work for that."

"So ..." he kissed her lightly on the forehead, "...how about that?"

"Mmm ... I was thinking more like ..." she rose up and leant over to kiss him on the lips.

"...or..." he slid his hands up over her shoulders to hold the back of her head as he pulled her closer and into a deep kiss, his tongue sliding over hers and tasting the toothpaste over the sherry.

"Mmm ... still needs work," she teased, rolling onto her back and tracing her finger down his chest, round each nipple and down to his belly button where she stopped, looked up at him and ran her tongue along her teeth.

"Temptress," he slid his hand down her side to the hem of the nightdress then under it until he met her breast. While his fingers played with her nipple, now a hard bud, his mouth nibbled and nipped along her jaw line, down her neck to the rise of her breast.

"Now you're getting the idea ..." she moaned lifting her hips to his growing need.

He pushed the nightdress up and over her head, taking in her soft, creamy skin, he never tired of seeing her like this...

When they had finished their leisurely lovemaking she snuggled against him, the perfect end to a perfect family Christmas.

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In the playground, all the children could talk about was what they had got for Christmas, what they had done and which family members had arrived. Fraser said his grandfather had stayed with them but all he did was sleep in the chair beside the radiogram.

"Uncle Matthew did that, on Christmas Day," Ted giggled, "he said Auntie Alice had worn him out, but I don't know how."

"At least it was only on one day," Fraser grumbled.

"Hey, Fraser," Ted could see his friend hadn't had as good a time as he had, "d'ye think your mum would let you come and play cricket on our drive, with my new bat?"

"Dunno, would your mum mind?"

A reasonable question, Ted thought, he hadn't asked her. They resolved to speak to their mothers that afternoon, at pick up time.

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Jean and Mrs Wilson were assaulted by the two boys talking at the same time, until Jean held her hands up and stopped them.

"Now," she smiled, "one at a time, please."

Ted looked at Fraser, and Fraser looked back at Ted.

"Well, mum," Ted tipped his head, "I was wondering if Fraser could come and play cricket with me, on the drive, please."

"I suppose so," she replied, thoughtfully, looking at Mrs Wilson.

"What about your windows, Mrs Blake," the other parent looked worried, "I'd worry they would get smashed."

"I worried about that too, when the doctor played with him at Christmas," she agreed, "but there is a wicket drawn on the garage wall so they hit the balls down the drive, not towards the house."

"Can I mum, please?" Fraser opened his eyes wide at her.

"Can we get settled into school, first," Mrs Wilson sighed, "you have a new teacher and new things to learn, so ..."

"I think that's a very good idea, Mrs Wilson, " Jean smiled, "perhaps one Saturday, when they're used to the new ways."

So it was decided, when the boys showed they were keeping up and paying attention to Mr Noonan, they would arrange a Saturday and they could play cricket, have lunch and then either play more cricket or with the train set.

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Mr Noonan was a different teacher to Miss Burns. He expected his class to sit quietly, put their hand up to answer a question and present neat and tidy work. Some of the boys found him tough but Fraser and Ted seemed to rise to the challenge. He rewarded effort, even if it wasn't successful, because, he told the children, "we learn by our mistakes - just don't make the same one twice."

He liked to challenge his pupils by setting them a research or practical task for their homework each week. Nothing too difficult, giving them a seed, a jar and something to grow it in, not just soil, but cotton wool, or blotting paper and the instruction to write what happened each day. Maybe chart the weather for a week, much more fun, Lucien said, than spellings or times tables.

"They still have to be learnt, though, dear," Jean smiled as Ted measured the height of his sunflower, "or he won't be able to write up his science tests."

Lucien held up his hands in submission and grinned.

Ted showed his mother the chart he was filling in, "it's growing, mum," he smiled, "have I written it right?"

Jean smiled at the spelling of 'wensday', corrected it and patted his head.

"As long as you keep looking after it like you do, it will grow strong and tall."

"Mum," he chewed the end of his pencil, "can Fraser come this Saturday, please? We've been working really hard in school, Mr Noonan says so."

"Don't chew your pencil, Ted, dinner won't be long," she gently pulled the writing implement out of his mouth, "I need to speak to his mother, first, but if she says it's alright, then, yes."

"Hooray!" his face lit up with joy and he hugged her, "thanks mum."

"So, what's all this?" Lucien did his stern father act, that nobody believed, especially not Ted.

"I asked mum if Fraser could come and play cricket on the drive with me," he turned and faced him, a serious expression on his face, "he didn't have as much fun as me at Christmas, his granddad just went to sleep by the radiogram and didn't play with him."

"I see," Lucien smiled, "well, then, I suppose if it's to cheer your mate up, it's a nice thing to do."

Ted grinned back and went to put his work away and play with the trains and Julia until dinner was on the table.

"I spoke to Mrs Wilson," Jean passed Lucien the cutlery, "apparently Fraser was really excited that his granddad was spending Christmas with them but, as Ted says, all the old man did was sit by the radiogram and sleep, in between meals. Fraser was really disappointed."

"Shame." Lucien finished setting the table.

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Jean let the boys, including Lucien, play on the drive and she decided to bake biscuits with Julia. Mattie had taken the weekend to go and visit her parents and catch up with some old friends. She also thought she might see if Charlie was available for a coffee, at the very least, and took some photographs to show him.

With the front door open, she could hear the shouts and laughs of the cricketers, and the thwack of the ball as it hit the bat. There were also pauses as a search for the ball went on, when it was hit into her shrubs, she hoped they weren't trampled too much.

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Fraser stood, bat in hand, waiting for the doctor to bowl to him. He had tempered his bowling to suit both boys and give them a good chance to hit the ball, this time Fraser swung the bat, connected with the ball and it flew past Lucien and towards the road. Ted ran after it.

"Stop! I'll get it!" Lucien turned and ran after his son.

As he got half way down the drive the ball came flying back to him. In surprise, he missed it. Leaving it to Ted to pick up, he went down to the road to see who had caught and sent the ball back, to thank them and apologise for what must have been a near miss.

"Hello," he approached the man, reading the plaque on the gate post. He was Lucien's height, fair hair, uncontrolled by hair cream but, neatly cut. His clothes had seen wear; faded but clean grey trousers and checked shirt, no tie, scuffed boots and whatever else he had was carried in an old kit bag over his shoulder. "Sorry," Lucien waved his hand in the direction of the house, "batting practice, six year olds."

"No worries," the man held out his hand, "looking for Thomas Blake, this is the last address I have for him, but ..."

"If you mean Dr Thomas Blake," Lucien shook the man's hand, "he passed a few years ago, I'm Dr Lucien Blake, his son." Lucien nodded in the direction of the plaque.

"Arthur, Arthur Blake, Thomas' nephew, not that he knew me," Arthur shrugged, "he and dad didn't see eye to eye."

"Aah," Lucien nodded, "Aunt Dorothy said as much. That the family practically disowned dad when he married a Frenchwoman, my mother, but when they tried to reach out to him after she died he closed them off."

"Dad!" Ted's voice floated down the drive, "are you coming?"

"In a minute, son!" he called back.

"Good my father never met my late wife," Arthur grimaced, "she was Austrian. Met her while travelling. Lost her during the war, shot helping the allies."

"I'm sorry. Dad never met my first wife, either, Chinese," Lucien sighed.

Arthur reached into his shirt pocket and handed Lucien some papers which he examined. His army discharge papers and passport, plus a couple of letters from his father, William.

"Come up to the house, meet the family."

"I thought you said ..." Arthur looked confused, despite the young voices coming from the garden and the boy who had called for his father.

"Second go, two little 'uns." Lucien indicated he walk with him, "Ted's playing cricket with a school mate and Julia's baking with Jean, my wife."

"Your first wife?" Arthur fell into step beside his cousin.

"Lost for seventeen years, then, well ... we divorced, long story, but we are both happy, now."

"Right," he smiled, his story was probably just as long. "so ..." he looked up at the two boys, "which one belted it down the drive?"

Fraser blushed, instantly giving himself away, "sorry, sir," he looked up into a pair of smiling blue eyes, "did I hit you?"

"No, son," Arthur grinned, "quite the slugger, eh?"

"Er, I suppose so," Fraser looked at Ted who shrugged his shoulders.

"Boys!" Jean called from the porch, "juice!" She turned to look for her husband and gasped when she saw him and another man, talking to the boys, it was like watching brothers.

"Thanks, mum," Ted ran over to her, followed by Fraser and they took a glass each and a biscuit.

"Jean!" Lucien called, patting Arthur on the shoulder and urging him gently forward, "Jean, this is my cousin, Arthur, Uncle William's son."

"Uncle William?" Jean questioned, "your father's brother?"

"Yes," he smiled, "Arthur, my wife, Jean."

"Pleased to meet you Jean," Arthur held his hand out, "I'm afraid I was looking for Uncle Thomas, but Lucien tells me he passed."

"Yes, a few years ago," Jean took his hand, noting it was rougher than Lucien's, the nails chipped but clean. "How do you do?"

"Very well, thank you," he smiled, "I'm afraid Lucien and I have never actually met, before. Our fathers were ... how shall I say ... estranged?"

"So I hear," she mused, remembering what Dorothy had said, "please, come in, I'll put the kettle on, or a cold drink?"

"Tea would be just grand," he grinned, "haven't had a decent cuppa in a while."

Ted and Fraser having watched the adults while they drank their juice took their glasses back to Jean.

"Thank you, Mrs Blake," Fraser wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"You're welcome, Fraser, now," she put the glasses on the tray, "how about you both go in and play with the train set, you both look a bit hot? I think dad will want to talk to his cousin."

"Ok, mum," Ted handed his glass back, "has Julia finished baking?"

"She has," Jean looked down at him, "if she wants to join in, you share, please. You've more track now ..."

"Before you go in, Ted," Lucien touched his shoulder, "this is my cousin, Arthur. Arthur my son, Ted, and his friend Fraser Wilson."

"Good to meet you boys," Arthur grinned a crooked grin.

"Hello," they chorused, Ted holding out his hand, as he had been taught. Arthur's hand swallowed the two smaller hands as he shook them gently.

"Come on Fraser, let's see how long we can make the track," Ted dragged his friend in, "me 'n dad got it round the legs of the dining table over Christmas, bends an' all."

Lucien grinned and he and Arthur followed Jean into the house.

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Lucien told Arthur to put his bag down under the coats and then took him down to the kitchen, where Jean put the kettle on and a plate of freshly made biscuits out.

"Dada," Julia went to stand by her father, "we cook," she grinned and allowed herself to be lifted onto his knee.

"They look lovely, sweetheart," he kissed her curls, "are we allowed to try them?"

"Yes, jus' one," she took his face, firmly, in her hands to make sure he understood.

"Right, well, would you like to say hello to my cousin Arthur?"

She smiled, shyly, "hello," little more than a whisper.

"This is Julia, she's not two yet," Lucien hugged her gently.

"How nice to meet you, Miss Julia," Arthur smiled softly, "you are a very pretty little girl."

"Play now, dada," she wriggled to get off his knee, "trains."

"Off you go," he let her down, "play nicely."

She toddled off, "Ted! me play too!"

"She's a cute one," Arthur noted.

"Did you ..?" Lucien asked.

"Yes, a boy, Maximillian, Max for short," Arthur took the offered cup from Jean, "he's in Melbourne at the moment. We got him out when things started to go wrong, sent him with a couple who worked for the engineering firm I was with, well the man did anyway. Forged the papers, changed his name to Michael, and they took him back to Birmingham as their own son."

"Goodness," Jean gasped, "how did you keep in touch?"

"Not easy," Arthur sipped his tea and sighed, "but when Claudia was shot I knew I had to get out. Found a group of British soldiers, offered my services, joined up and spent the rest of the war building bridges or blowin' 'em up, depending on the situation. Running an engineering company I knew where to 'liberate' supplies," he winked, "Kept my mind occupied and off losing her."

"I'm so sorry," Jean whispered, "it must have been awful for you."

"War doesn't care who it hurts, Jean," he slumped in his seat, "it's pretty indiscriminate."

"I lost my first husband, in the Solomons," Jean told him, "it took a long time for me to move on."

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

There was a silence around the table until Lucien took a deep breath and decided a cheerier subject was called for.

"So, Arthur, what have you been up to since?"

"Finally got back to England, to the boy in 'forty-seven" he sat back in his chair, "took a while to get to know him but we got there in the end."

"I'm glad you did," Jean smiled, "family is important."

"Indeed it is, Jean," he nodded in agreement, "these silly family feuds over marriage are such a sad thing."

"Now, Arthur," Jean stood up, "you will stay for lunch, won't you? It's not much, we have a proper dinner in the evening."

"I don't want to put you to any trouble," he stood and turned as if he was about to leave.

"It's no trouble," she smiled, "please."

"Where are you staying?" Lucien noticed Jean's expression.

"Oh, I'll find somewhere," Arthur shrugged and grinned.

"There's plenty of room, here," Jean took the cups to the sink, "you are welcome to stay."

"Jean," he gasped, "that's very kind of you, but you don't know me."

"You're a Blake," she turned, "it was like watching brothers walk up the drive."

"Really?" his eyebrows shot up, "you could see it."

"Yes, and if I hadn't, a very old and good friend would have said as much. She noticed how like Lucien Ted was, when he came to us."

"Pardon?"

Jean and Lucien told him a short version of how Ted had come to them, and assured him that Agnes Clasby was more than likely to point out the likeness.

"We can call her, if you like," Lucien grinned, "though she doesn't get out as much as she used to."

"I bet she'd like to see you," Jean thought out loud, "in fact, why don't we invite her for dinner?"

"Matthew and Alice are coming over, love," Lucien reminded her, "are you sure?"

Jean rewarded him with a 'look'.

"Right, yes, of course," he was suitably chastised.

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Arthur looked round the guest room. It was clean, tidy and fresh. His usual billet was a boarding house, or even a barn, he wasn't fussy when he was on his own, but when he had Max with him he tried to find something more comfortable. All he had wanted to do was speak to his uncle and tell him he bore him no grudge, let bygones be bygones. He knew he had a cousin, Lucien, his father had made some snide remark about the name, but, having married an Austrian, not a German, as Claudia was always at pains to let everyone know, he could understand more of his uncle's feelings than his father's. They had so much to talk about, him and Lucien, repair the breaks in the family.

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"Did you find everything?" Jean lifted her head from setting out sandwiches and plates.

"Thank you, Jean," he nodded, "I really didn't expect to be welcomed so warmly."

"You were looking for Thomas, what kind of welcome did you think you would get?" she was curious as to whether the same feeling William had for Thomas had gone the opposite way. "Thomas never mentioned his brother and spoke very rarely of his sister when I worked for him."

"I really didn't know," he admitted, "the feud was over Thomas' marriage."

"Thomas didn't want Lucien to bring Mei Lin here, either. I think that was more to protect her from the gossip from the locals than his displeasure but he didn't get that across to Lucien and lost the chance to be a grandfather to Li." She fetched a jug of water from the side, "it's taken a long time for Lucien to find peace."

"If you hadn't been here, when I came back, Jean," Lucien appeared behind Arthur, "I still wouldn't have found that peace."

She smiled through her blushes.

"I've phoned Agnes," he continued, "she's looking forward to meeting you, Arthur."

"Should I be worried?" Arthur asked.

"No, I don't think so," Lucien grinned, "she knew both my parents, and probably yours."

"I think we'll eat in here, tonight," Jean mused, "it's a tight squeeze round the dining table."

"Quite," her husband agreed.

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Mindful of the children's ages, conversation around the lunch table centred on places Arthur had visited since the war. He said he had been advising on the rebuilding of some places, before heading to England in nineteen forty-seven.

"Why did you go to England?" Ted asked, wondering why he hadn't come to Australia.

"My son was there," he smiled, "I went to see him."

"Oh," Ted thought for a moment, then decided it was probably a grown up issue and left it at that.

"You said Max is in Melbourne ..." Jean wiped Julia's fingers, "do you have friends there?"

"Not really," Arthur leant his elbows on the table and linked his hands, "he wanted to spend some time at the galleries and museums, he's an art historian."

"That must be interesting," Lucien sat back in his chair, "there's some half decent stuff in the gallery here, you know."

"More than 'half decent', dear," Jean chided him, "there are some very good works, you know that."

"Of course, Jean," he nodded, "you are quite right."

"If you need to ring him, tell him where you are ..." Jean suddenly realised Arthur might want to let his son know how far he had got in his search for family.

"I would like to, but I can use a box," he smiled, "I passed one on the way up here."

"No, there's one in the study, unless you're plotting something," Lucien grinned.

"Ha ha," he laughed, "I'll just give him a quick call and, if I may, pass on your number."

"Of course," the doctor agreed, "he can ring you if he needs to."

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Lucien said he would collect Agnes for dinner before Matthew and Alice arrived. Arthur was concerned he was imposing on a special occasion.

"Not at all," Jean assured him, "it's not unusual for the Lawson's to dine with us they are close family friends. Matthew and Lucien were school friends and Alice is his colleague in the morgue."

"The morgue?"

"Yes," Lucien grinned, lifting the car keys, "Alice is a pathologist, we do the autopsies together, on murder victims or unexplained deaths." He opened the door, "I'm the Police Surgeon," he added as an after-thought.

"Matthew?" Arthur asked, wondering if he was a medic too.

"Chief Superintendant of Police," Jean shooed Lucien off to collect Agnes, "Julia adores him, just watch her reaction when she hears his footstep, the thud of his walking stick on the hall floor," she laughed.

Arthur raised his eyebrows, from his original idea of connecting with an old family member, joining the dots he called it, it would seem he had found a whole new family that were warm and welcoming, as opposed to the cold and stiff uncle he had been told about, by his late father. Uncle Thomas may have been distant, but Cousin Lucien couldn't have been more different.

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True to form, when she heard Uncle Matthew arrived, Julia toddled as fast as she could to greet 'Maffoo'. Arms wide ready to be swung up onto his hip, he described it as being like a monkey in the zoo, but everyone could see how much he enjoyed it, even Alice, though it did always bring her round to the fact he would be a wonderful father ...

Jean was just introducing Arthur to the Lawson's when Lucien arrived with Agnes. Physically a little frailer, but still with that razor sharp mind they had come to love she looked Arthur up and down and extended her hand.

"Definitely a Blake," she pursed her lips, "William's lad then, eh?"

"I am, Miss Clasby," he bowed a little and kissed her hand, "a pleasure, I think," he smiled.

"I didn't know him as well as I knew Thomas and Genevieve," she admitted as he offered her his arm and took her to the living room, "but we did meet."

Lucien poured drinks while Jean finished in the kitchen, refusing any help from the guests.

"There are no peas to pod today, Alice," she smiled.

Alice pouted in reply, "I dare say Ted and I will survive," she accepted her drink and sat in the chair.

Both Arthur and Agnes looked from one to the other and decided they didn't want to know, it was obviously some form of secret code!

"So, Miss Clasby," Arthur turned to her, "what happened, between my father and my uncle?"

"Well, if you really want to know," she smiled, "they were two of a kind. Both passionate about their calling, your father, as you know, engineering - at first cars, then aeroplanes, and Thomas, medicine, the sick, his practice here - and, inevitably they would argue. William had moved away, by the time Thomas came back from the Boer War, travelling through Europe and meeting Genevieve..."

"Alright, everybody," Jean called through from the kitchen, "dinner's ready."

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Conversation flowed between the adults and the children. Ted wanted to know about building bridges; Arthur said he would show him the following day, with his train set; Agnes told what she knew of William, which, she had to admit was very little. She did know of the rift between the siblings and how it had affected Thomas.

"Particularly after Genevieve died," she sipped her wine, "he could have done with their support, with you, Lucien, but he pushed them away."

"He never mentioned anything to me," Blake sighed, "then, or when I came home for the holidays."

"No, well, he wouldn't, would he," Agnes agreed, "unfortunately, Thomas could hold a grudge."

Lucien hummed his agreement. The sound of cutlery on plates cut through the following silence.

"So, Arthur," Jean turned to the newest member of the family, "you said, earlier, you had been travelling, with Max ..."

"He wanted to see Europe, where he was born," Arthur nodded, "so, when he finished university we sold everything, and headed off."

"You must have seen a lot of changes," she noted.

"Indeed, some good, some not so," he agreed, "we started in Austria, he wanted to see ... " he looked towards Ted and decided it wasn't a subject for young ears. "... places me and his mother knew, then we just walked ..."

"Walked?" Alice's eyebrows rose in surprise, " _all_ the way?"

"Pretty much," he smiled, "it's the best way to see a country. We just booked in little places as we found them. It was while we were in an art gallery in Bonn that we noticed little, almost hidden notes about pieces that were missing since Adolph started plundering the museums. It piqued Max's interest and now he has to prove he has the knowledge to help the MFAA." Arthur's face beamed with pride.

"MFAA?" Matthew looked confused.

"Monuments, Fine Arts and Archives program," he clarified, "they are trying to find and return misappropriated art works."

"So," Alice mused ...

"He is going round museums and galleries around the world, working where he can, and writing about little known works or artists. He hopes this will prove he has the necessary skills to evaluate works, authenticate them."

"Pathology for art?" Alice tried to put it into a way she could understand, having looked at an x-ray of a picture with Lucien to work out why it was of interest.

"X-rays work," Lucien followed her train of thought, then proceeded to tell Arthur what they had found out about a painting of his mother's.

"Well, I never," he grinned, "crafty lady."

"I'll show you the painting later, if you like," Lucien offered, "it's in the studio."

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Jean noticed Ted stifle a yawn and Julia was well on the way to falling asleep in her high chair.

"Excuse me," she pushed her chair back, "I think these two need to go to bed, cricket can be tiring." She stood and held out her hand to Ted, "come on sweetheart," she smiled, "bedtime."

"Mum," he rubbed his eyes.

"Ted," she warned, "you're tired, you'll see Arthur tomorrow."

"Okay," he huffed.

"Say goodnight, dear," she lifted Julia out of the high chair, it was the only day of the week the children were allowed to stay up later than usual bedtime and it wasn't unusual for Julia to give in before dessert.

"Goodnight," Ted slid off his chair and headed to get ready for bed.

"Night, son," Lucien reached over and ruffled his hair, "sleep well."

"Night dad," he whispered.

The adults round the table smiled as the two children were taken off by their mother.

"They do rather well, for little'uns," Arthur muttered, "I wonder if Max would have been able to do the same."

"We know that Ted is the only one of his friends who is allowed to stay up a little longer if we have certain guests..." Lucien stood to start taking the plates through to the kitchen.

"...we're rather like one big family, though, aren't we?" Alice pointed out, "I certainly feel that way." She blushed a little.

"I'll take that as a compliment, Alice," he grinned, "we are so glad to have you, in the family."

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Matthew and Alice washed up, they insisted, while Lucien showed Arthur the painting of Agnes over the Davies painting Genevieve had tried to hide from Thomas.

"Remarkable," he mused, "I wonder if anyone else has done that."

"I have no idea," Lucien stood it on the sideboard, "but the only way we can retrieve the Davies is to remove mother's, and I am not going to do that."

"I take that as a personal compliment, Lucien," Agnes looked up at him, smiling. He just bowed his head slightly.

"How long are you staying, Arthur?" Matthew limped back into the living room.

"Oh, I don't really know," he looked into his glass, "I don't want to impose, but I would like to see the gallery, then I can tell Max about it. Metropolitan museums and galleries are all very well, but where better to hide looted or over-painted works than in a smaller place."

Jean wasn't sure if she minded or not, visitors were always welcome, which was what she told Arthur, while composing the next shopping list in her head.

He smiled and decided he would speak to her in private, about helping with the finances, even though he could see they were not in difficulties.

"We used to take in lodgers," Lucien observed, "the district nurse, a copper ...so much room, and they were company. My practice nurse lives in, she's in Melbourne 'til tomorrow evening, seeing parents."

"A full house then," Arthur noted, "what happened to the copper?"

"Detective training," Matthew swallowed his drink, "good lad, he'll go far."

"Mattie was hoping to catch up with him," Jean shifted on the couch so Alice could sit down, "I think she misses him."

"Really?"

"As a friend, Lucien," she elbowed him gently, "they were like brother and sister."

"Yes, of course."

Jean shook her head and sighed, clueless.

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So, how long will Arthur stay? Will anything happen? A rather quiet chapter, hope you don't mind.


	22. Chapter 22

Arthur sighed and stretched. The early morning sun fell over his window sill, under the curtains and the sound of movement in another part of the house crept through the door.

Jean hadn't said what time she served breakfast, and he didn't want her to go to any trouble in the way of making his after she had cleared up from the rest of the family. There had been no mention of church of any denomination, but, looking at the bedside clock, he would have missed early Mass. He had retained his faith, in spite of all he had gone through, but it was one thing that had kept him going. Max had been raised Anglican but was very lax about it. He didn't suppose God would mind if he missed one week.

Now to the previous evening. He had learned a lot about his cousin's war and thought he had got off lightly. True he had lost his wife; he had admitted he had been there when she was shot, and held her as she died; but he hadn't been incarcerated like Lucien, spent years wondering about his family - he had known his son was safe.

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He was pleased to see the household in the kitchen, at various stages of eating breakfast. Jean was wiping Julia's face and hands, Lucien was at the sink, and Ted, was just finishing his bacon and eggs.

"Good morning," Arthur smiled, "I hope I'm not too late."

"Good morning," Jean smiled, "there's some egg and bacon on the stove, if that's alright."

"Lovely, thank you," he lifted the plate off the pan and took it to the table. "I wasn't sure if you would be heading to church, it being Sunday," he mused as she poured him some tea.

"Lucien lost his faith," Jean smiled, "and when I chose to marry him, my church ... disapproved ... for want of a better word, because he is divorced, so I left."

"That can't have been easy," he watched her closely.

"No, it wasn't." She heaved a sigh, "but it would rather have me as a widow and without Lucien's love and the children. That wasn't how I wanted to live out the rest of my life. I was baptised and married at Sacred Heart, my older boys were baptised there, but it wouldn't see me married again, not to Lucien. We both went through an awful lot ..."

Arthur reached over and squeezed her hand, "If I were lucky enough to find that kind of love again," he smiled, "then perhaps I would also have to make a choice."

"You still have faith?"

"Yes, but I also understand why anyone would lose theirs if they had to go through what you did, Lucien," he looked up as his cousin turned round.

"It's a pity the church doesn't have that kind of attitude," Lucien wiped his hands dry, " a lot more people would be happier at not having to make that choice." He kissed Jean's cheek and lifted Julia out of the high chair which she was really too big for, .but at least she was contained during mealtimes.

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Ted reminded Arthur that he had said he would show him how to build bridges for the train set, so, once breakfast was all over, they decamped to the living room.

"Now, young man," Arthur looked at the amount of track he had, and the space he had, "I take it you have to put it away when you have finished playing with it?"

"Yes, I do," he sighed, "but there's nowhere else to put it. It doesn't matter though, I can change the track every time."

"Quite," Arthur agreed, "so, let's look at how we can build a bridge."

Julia decided she wanted to play too, so building bridges became 'interesting', was the polite term, Arthur thought, but he hadn't had the chance to do this with his own son and he was going to enjoy every minute. Lucien wandered through, occasionally, at first a little jealous, but then, when Jean saw his worried look and reminded him he did science experiments with him and played cricket, he realised he wouldn't lose his son to this 'usurper'.

"Remember, darling," she whispered in the kitchen, "Arthur must have missed all this with Max, and, he is a better bridge builder."

"Right, wonder if he's any good at cutting the grass?" he mused, heading out to the garden. Jean smiled and thought she would reward him later, for allowing someone else to play with his son.

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"Don't forget, Lucien," Jean noted over lunch, "you said you'd pick Mattie up, from the station."

"What train is she catching?" he swallowed the last of his apple pie and leant back with a satisfied sigh.

"She said she'd be on the six-thirty," she told him, wiping Julia's face of custard.

"Mattie?" Arthur queried.

"The practice nurse."

"Ah, yes, the one who's seeing parents? in Melbourne?" he remembered from the conversations the previous day.

"Nurse Mattie came from England," Ted proudly informed him.

"She used to be the district nurse here, and lodged with us," Jean smiled, "then got an offer to work in London. She came back when her father was taken ill."

"Oh, is he alright?" he asked, "if she's come to work for you," he looked at Lucien.

"Fine, apparently, it was a small stroke, but Mrs O'Brien dramatised it, in Mattie's words." Lucien nodded.

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Arthur offered to help Jean with the washing up while Lucien played with the children, taking them outside to play cricket. He wanted to pose, what he thought was, a delicate subject, that of money.

"Jean, I feel rather guilty," he dried a plate and put it on the table, "just landing here like I have done. I, er ... well it's just that I'm used to staying in hotels and paying for my board, I'd like to contribute to the household expenses ..." he blushed a little, hoping he hadn't insulted her.

"Oh, that's very kind of you, Arthur, but, there's no need, really," she stuttered, "you are family."

"True, but even so, I feel I'm taking advantage of your generosity, so, please ..."

She could see he was embarrassed, but she didn't want to charge him rent, and he could see her turning it over.

"Perhaps, if you are shopping tomorrow I could come with you, pick up a bill or two ..?"

"I suppose so, but beware, this town gossips like nothing else on earth," she smiled.

"You're a married woman!" he gasped.

"And you're a stranger in the town - the women of this town have the worst imaginations ..." she laughed, "some thought that Ted and Julia were actually our children, and that Lucien had finally got round to doing the right thing, when we married. Nobody seemed to realise that Lucien was not in Ballarat when Ted was born and I couldn't understand how I was supposed to hide being pregnant." She rolled her eyes.

He shook his head, sadly, then looked up, "play it up?" he winked.

She put another plate on the drainer, "behave, you're worse than Lucien." But she thought they could have some fun.

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Lucien looked around the station, trying to spot Mattie in the hustle and bustle of people returning from weekends away, visiting family or friends. He finally spotted her, chatting to a young man, tall and blond. It made him smile. More than once he and Jean had worried that she was married to her work, seeing only old friends from the hospital and never talking about men she had met in London, or going out with any of the young men in Ballarat. They had both agreed not to interfere unless she seemed unhappy or lonely. He strolled over and stood just close enough to make himself heard over the noise.

"Taxi for Nurse O'Brien?" he smiled.

She turned and grinned. "Hello, Lucien, sorry, I didn't see you."

"You weren't looking," he picked up her case.

"Lucien, this is Michael, we met at one of the galleries in Melbourne." She indicated the man she had been so actively talking to.

"Not Michael Blake?" he looked him up and down, rather like Arthur, though clean shaven.

"Yes, do I know you?"

"No, but I know your father, Arthur," he held out his hand, "he's staying with us."

"Of course, sorry I didn't twig, Dad phoned me to say he had found that Uncle Thomas had died and he was staying with his son," he shook Lucien's hand.

"You mean, he's a Blake, as in one of your family?" Mattie gasped, "Goodness!"

"His father is my cousin, Mattie," Lucien grinned, "you knew dad had a brother, as well as a sister, didn't you?"

"I don't think I ever gave it much thought. I never met your aunt, she died before I came back," she reminded him, "well, wonders will never cease."

"Well, come on, you two, let's get you home," he lifted her case, "yes, you too Michael." He saw the look on the lad's face.

"But, won't your wife ..."

"She'd kill me if I didn't invite you, and likewise if I do, so I'm sunk either way," he laughed," nothing new there."

"Don't worry, Michael," Mattie assured him, "unless Jean has filled up the house while Lucien came down to collect me, there's plenty of room."

"R i i ight," he hesitated, "well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to say hello to dad."

"Lovely," Lucien clapped his shoulder, "car's over here."

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Lucien watched his two passengers, clearly comfortable in each other's company.

"What brings you to Ballarat?" he asked, "Arthur said you were looking at the museums in Melbourne."

"Following a lead, on a painting," he answered, "sketches kept in the bowels of the National Gallery... could be nothing." He shrugged.

"They do that a lot," Lucien mused, "hide good art work in the basement and forget about it ..."

"Lucien found one of his mother's paintings taken down from the wall in the Ballarat gallery, and put away because it didn't fit with the exhibition they were putting on," Mattie explained, "some daub by a local woman, was how they described it."

"There have been some rather fine female artists over the years," Michael observed.

"Quite," Lucien hissed through gritted teeth.

"You got it back, Lucien," Mattie leant forward and touched his shoulder, "don't be churlish."

"Sorry, Mattie," he smiled, "you're right."

"I'd like to see it," Michael leant forward, "what name did she paint under?"

"Genevieve Etienne," he turned into the drive, "she was French. I don't think many of her works are around the major galleries." He thought for a moment, "though there is one in Melbourne, in private hands, waiting for me to collect," he thought back to his younger days and a certain lady detective he once met. Perhaps it was time to retrieve his painting, the original one his mother had painted, not the one she had covered the Davies with. There were probably subtle differences between the two.

"Oh, who holds it?"

"I'll tell you the story sometime," Lucien pulled up outside the porch, "have you two eaten?"

Michael nodded, "we ate in a new restaurant near the station."

Lucien didn't say anything, but he thought maybe Mattie had spent more than an afternoon with Michael.

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"We're back!" he called from the front door, "pop your bag down there and come and meet the family," he grinned at Michael.

"Dada!" Julia toddled up the hall, "Mattie!" Mattie's name was the only one she pronounced properly but Matthew had got used to 'Maffoo', and Alice was 'Annie Allie'.

"Hello, chick," Mattie swung her into a hug, "say hello to Michael."

"Hello," she whispered, shyly, "tory, Mattie, pease."

"Let me take my coat off and say hello to mama," Mattie laughed, "you are so impatient."

"Julia," Lucien told Michael, "she's nearly two, Ted should be somewhere about, probably playing with his train set."

"Train set, eh?" Michael grinned, "I had one, not a big one, but I got hours of fun out of it."

"Your father was showing him how to build bridges, earlier," Lucien preceded him to the living room, "and it would seem they are still at it."

"That figures," Michael laughed, "dad's just a big kid at heart."

"Hello, son," Arthur heaved himself up, "what're you doing here?"

"Er ..."

"Jean, this is my son, Michael," he went over to him, "Michael, Jean is my cousin's wife," he leant close and whispered just enough for both Jean and Lucien to hear, "be nice, she's in charge round here," he grinned.

"Arthur, just behave, you're worse than a schoolboy," she put her knitting to one side and looked up, "welcome, Michael, Arthur has told us quite a lot about you."

"I found him chatting to Mattie at the station - couldn't really leave him there, could I?"

"Of course not. Matthew's room, I think," she stood up. "Welcome, Michael."

"Thank you, Jean," he shook the offered hand, "I hope I'm not putting you to any trouble, I was planning on staying in a hotel."

"Nonsense, family, Michael," she smiled.

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"Sure you're not tired?" Lucien questioned his wife as she slipped in beside him.

"And why would I be?" she raised an eyebrow, and took hold of his hand.

"Well, we have a house full ..."

"Let me show you how tired I am," she turned on her side and leant over to kiss him, softly, and ran her hands over his chest.

"Exhausted, obviously," he teased.

She giggled, the sound he loved, but he silenced it with a kiss...

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With the following day being Monday, there was much to be done. Ted had to taken to school, Jean had shopping to do, Lucien had surgery as did Mattie; which left Michael to, in his words, potter round the gallery.

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In every shop, Arthur took out his wallet and paid the bill. At first, Jean was a little embarrassed, especially when the butcher raised an eyebrow.

"See what you mean," Arthur smiled as they left the shop. "If I were you I would point out that the other butcher in town has better looking chops."

"He knows I would never go there, they bulk the sausages out with too much bread," Jean sighed, "and they don't have better looking chops." She tossed her head, theatrically, and headed towards the green grocers, smirking.

Julia was getting fidgety as they discussed the quality of the fruit and whether or not strawberries were a good idea, when there was a kerfuffle out in the street. Somebody was calling for an ambulance and a child was crying. Jean looked outside at the crowd surrounding whatever was going on. Someone had lifted the crying child and was trying to pacify her and another pushed past her into the shop to ask that they get help.

"Pregnant woman, knocked over by some young drongo," he gasped, "think she's from the barracks, asked for her husband, a Lieutenant Beazley ..."

"Ruby!" Jean shouted, pushing the stroller to Arthur, "wait here, please." She ran out and pushed through the people, finding her granddaughter in the arms of a stranger and Ruby sitting on the ground, groaning and holding her baby bump.

"Ruby," she knelt beside her, "Ruby, breathe, everything will be alright, " she gripped her hand, "don't worry."

"Jean, oh thank goodness," Ruby gasped, "I'm sorry, we should have come to see you, after Christmas, but ..."

"You've been getting ready for this little one," Jean smoothed her hand over her head, "no worries, and the phone calls were lovely, now ..." she was interrupted by the sound of the ambulance arriving.

It was all rather rushed, the ambos lifted Ruby gently onto a stretcher, Jean assured her she would be over to see her soon, and would take Amelia with Julia back to the house ...

"Take my keys," Ruby passed her handbag over to her mother in law, "get what she needs ... my hospital bag ..."

"Don't worry," Jean smiled, hiding her worry, as far as she knew Ruby had another month to go, "I'll see to it."

She took Amelia from the woman holding her, and thanked her, explaining she was Amelia's grandmother and would take care of her.

"Come on, sweetie," she kissed the dark curls, "let's go and find granddad. Julia's here."

"Gran'ma," the little girl sobbed, "mummy?"

"Mummy will be alright, darling," she soothed, "the doctors will look after her. Now," she looked up to see Arthur, with Julia, waiting patiently, having apparently finished the shopping in the grocer's.

"Arthur, this is my granddaughter, Amelia," she smiled, "I'm afraid we can't stop for a cuppa ..."

"Understandable, Jean," he smiled, "shall we get these little ones home, and then ... didn't I hear you say you needed to fetch some things for her and her mother?"

"Yes, and get over to the hospital ..."

"Is there a bus we can catch?" he asked, realising speed was of the essence and one of the children would have to be carried.

"Not for half an hour," she sighed.

"Right," he could see it was no good offering to take Amelia off her, the child was too upset to go to a stranger, again. "Come on, Julia, on my shoulders, Amelia needs the stroller." He bent down and unclipped her and before she knew it she was perched on his shoulders, giggling.

They set off at a smart pace, with Jean explaining that her son and his wife were one a short respite from tours with the army. Ruby had wanted to stay in Ballarat until the baby was born and so far they hadn't deployed Christopher overseas.

"It's only a matter of time," she sighed, "he expects it any day."

"Quite," he replied, "in these times ... it must be quite a worry for you."

"It is, but he chose the life, and I can't stop him doing what he loves."

"Nor should you," he smiled, "you must be very proud of him."

"I am," she turned the stroller into the drive and was relieved to see Lucien was still at home, she could leave the children with him and Mattie, while she went to sort out Ruby's things and something for Amelia to wear over the next few days.

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"Right, Mattie," Lucien picked up his keys, "you're in charge, I'll be at the hospital with Jean, we'll ring you."

Jean soothed the children, telling Julia to be a good girl for Nurse Mattie and to play nicely with Amelia who was feeling sad. She told Amelia she would be back as soon as she had seen mummy, "and how about you stay with us, until she's better, eh?"

"Daddy ... where he be?"

"I'll find daddy, and make sure he comes to see you," she kissed both girls and, thanking Arthur for his help, she headed out of the house with her husband.

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Jean stood outside Ruby's hospital room, while Lucien spoke to the doctors about her. She so wanted to be there, at least to hold the young woman's hand, but he had told her to wait, in case Christopher arrived. One of the nurses brought her a chair and a cup of tea.

"Everything will be fine, Mrs Blake," she smiled gently, "she's getting the best care."

"I know, it's just ..." Jean sighed and sipped the tea, "she struggled with her first one, and this was going so well."

"The first one?"

"She's at our house with the nurse and our daughter," she sat back, "frightened, of course, but I've told her she can stay with us until mummy's better."

"I'm sure she'll like that ..."

"Mum!" Christopher's voice interrupted them, "what happened?"

"She was pushed over, in the street," Jean stood up and touched his arm, "I think it started her off, but ..."

"...only a month to go," he confirmed, "is she alright? Amelia?"

"Amelia's at ours, with Mattie and Julia," Jean looked into his concerned face, "she can stay until everything's sorted."

"Thanks, mum, that'll be a great help."

"Lucien's in there, with the doctors," she thought he would need to know what was happening.

"Right ... good ..." he ran his fingers through his neatly cut hair, "bloody hell," he muttered.

Just as she was about to tell him to watch his language, Lucien and the other doctors came out of the room. Lucien was nodding his agreement to something the obstetrician had just said.

"Ah, Jean, Christopher," he help his hand out to the young lieutenant, "good."

"What's happening, doctor?" Christopher asked, keeping his voice low, in case his wife could hear.

"Well, they've managed to stop the contractions, but we all feel it would be best if she stayed in until the baby is born," he shook his hand, "up to now, everything is fine, Ruby isn't hurt, above a bruise on her hip where she landed, and the baby is moving well. Ruby is sleeping now."

"Can I see her?" Christopher still looked troubled.

"Of course, please," he opened the door and stepped aside.

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Christopher stood at the side of the bed watching his wife's breast rise and fall with each breath. He noticed how pale she was, how small she looked. He reached down and took her hand, noting how soft the skin was. He lifted it and planted a soft kiss on the palm, then folded her fingers in.

Jean approached him, placing her hand on his upper arm, "she'll be alright, Christopher," she murmured, "Lucien will take care of her, along with the other doctors."

"Yes," he turned and took a deep breath, "yes, of course."

"Do you want to come and stay with us?" she wondered where she could put him. Arthur was in the guest room, the children were in Lucien's old bedroom, Michael was in Matthew's old room, she supposed the room Charlie used to have.

"No, thanks mum," he turned and gave her a small smile, "I'll go back to our place, but," he took her hand, "would you look after Amelia for me?"

"Of course," she nodded, "she can sleep with Julia, please, Christopher, come and eat with us, at least."

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The next few days were spent in a haze. Lucien went to the hospital each day to discuss Ruby's care with the other doctors. She was tired and a little sore from the bruise on her hip, but her concern was for the health of her unborn child.

"So far, my dear," Lucien sat next to her bed and held her hand, "everything is progressing well."

"But you want me to stay in ..." she pointed out. To her the two ideas didn't make sense. If everything was alright, why couldn't she go home.

"Just a precaution, Ruby," he smiled, "if you should start to have contractions again, we can't be sure we can stop them. Keeping you here means you will have the best intervention you can have, and the baby will be delivered safely."

"I see," she sighed, "I suppose you're right."

"Would you like me to sneak Amelia in for five minutes," he grinned, wickedly.

"Could you?" she brightened immediately, "I'd love to see her, tell her I love her and everything's ok."

So Lucien and Jean would arrive each afternoon and take the little girl in to see her mother. She was allowed five minutes to cuddle and tell what she was doing, and how she was playing with Julia and how gran'ma or granddad or someone would read to her. One afternoon she took in some biscuits she and Julia had baked with Jean and they sat and nibbled together, until Jean suggested they had better leave, before Sister caught them.

"Thank you, Jean," Ruby smiled, rubbing her baby bump where Beazley number two was playing football with her ribcage, "for bringing her, and looking after her for us."

"It's our pleasure, dear," Jean leant over and kissed her cheek, "I did say, if you needed anything towards the end and when the baby is born, you were only to ask."

"I know, and I do appreciate it."

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Michael had hoped Mattie would help him find the painting he was looking for, but with the incident over Ruby he had to head over to the gallery by himself. When he got there, there was quite a fuss going on - a group of men muttering something about security, and questioning who the man was who had caused the worry.

"Excuse me," Michael coughed, "I'm looking for the head curator?"

"That's me," an old man turned round, his hair sticking up from when he had distractedly run his fingers through it, and his round glasses askew as if he had been in a physical altercation. "James Stanford, how can I help you?"

Michael reasoned that dressing relatively smartly might be the best way to get seen by the curator, it had worked before, and again, he found he was greeted politely. His youth usually got him the brush off.

"Michael Blake," he extended his hand, "I wrote, about searching for a Tom Roberts ..."

"Ah, yes," Stanford nodded, "sorry, we're a bit distracted, some young 'so called' artist has just tried to persuade us to part with a Roberts, then when we refused he tried to get into the storage area ..."

"Interesting," Michael mused. "The one I'm looking for should be the completed one from these sketches." He opened his folder and showed some pencil and wash sketches of shearers, attributed to Tom Roberts. "apparently it was removed from the National in Melbourne. At the moment all I can do is go round the galleries in Australia trying to pick up leads. The last anyone saw of it, it was in a collection held here and due to be sent back, but never arrived."

"Strange," Stanford looked at the sketches, "these look like the painting that fellow was after, at least this is how he described it."

Why did he want it?" Michael returned the sketches to his folder, "the original owner is the one trying to trace it. He had it hanging in his home in Germany before the war. He shipped it back here, when he heard about the looting that was going on, even though he thought old Adolph wouldn't be interested in an Australian artist. He just didn't want to take the chance. Roberts gifted it to his family after they had allowed him to set up a camp on their land near Box Hill and paint."

"Fascinating," Stanford nodded, clearly entranced by the story, "Roberts is one of my favourite artists, to be honest and we have a couple on display at the moment, we rotate - I suppose you have all the appropriate paperwork?"

"Oh, yes," Michael patted the folder.

"Right, may I?" He held out his hand, "my office, I think."

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Michael showed Stanford the letter from Tom Roberts in which he gifted the painting to the Munroe family in gratitude for their assistance and kindness over the camp. The Munroe's had moved to Germany, the head of the family being a car manufacturer who had bought a small factory there. The factory did well and the family were very well settled until ...

"... well, they could see where it was going to end so they started sending things back home, intending to follow, discreetly." Michael came to the end of the story, "but, they had to make a run for it, Munroe senior was found helping 'undesirables', hiding them amongst his workforce. They were lucky, having sent most of their money and belongings back to Melbourne, Munroe was able to continue working, setting up a factory that made machinery parts. Old man Munroe was having his paintings and other artworks catalogued when it was discovered this one was missing ..."

"The lad that wanted the picture told us some tale about being the rightful owner, that it had been stolen," Stanford passed the papers back, "somehow I didn't believe him, he had nothing to prove his story."

"Interesting," Michael mused, "I wonder why he was so determined to get the picture. Where did he go?"

"No idea," Stanford found he liked this young man, eager, but steady, "He ran out of here when we stopped him going down to the basement."

"Which direction?"

"Down towards the town."

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Michael spent a good part of the day looking at the current exhibition before heading down to the basement and the paintings not on display. There were a great deal and he became immersed in his world. He started a list of what was there, sorting them, putting each artist's work in a block, making notes about each painting, unable to confine himself to his primary search. There were two or three which he found suspect, sure that they were held in other galleries - could these be copies, or could the others be copies? An interesting idea came to his mind, could he do some searches on these paintings, too, if the gallery agreed.

"Let's face it," he muttered to himself, "it wouldn't be the first time."

"Mr Blake," Stanford poked his nose round the door, "we're closing now ..."

"Goodness, is that the time," Michael's eyebrows rose and he blinked. "An interesting collection Mr Stanford, hope you don't mind I've re-organised a few ..."

"Oh ..." Stanford moved into the room, "I'm afraid I just don't have the staff to keep it tidy, nobody has the skills ... nobody is interested in such things, these days, not as a career, anyway."

"I am," Michael smiled, closing his folder, "if you are looking for someone ... I have been working with the MFAA, but, I quite like the idea of staying in one place, for a time ..."

"Let's see how you do with the Roberts case," Stanford smiled, "then perhaps we can talk."

"Lovely," Michael shook his hand, and after arranging to meet again the following day, left with a spring in his step. This way, he would have a steady job and maybe get to see more of Mattie, who he had taken a bit of a shine to.


	23. Chapter 23

So absorbed in his work with the Tom Roberts painting, Michael barely noticed the young man idling by the display case in the blue room of the gallery. He was sure he had found the painting he was looking for and was examining it with a magnifying glass. Stanford had put a desk with a lamp on it, in a side room where he could see all that went on but he himself was largely ignored, allowing the art historian to work in peace. Michael made copious notes, referred to the sketches and the information Munroe had given him, turned the painting over, examined the frame and how it was mounted. Finally, he stood up and rubbed his stiff neck. He nodded with satisfaction - this was what he was looking for.

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The young man watched through the glass case, biding his time - he had to wait for the right moment - then he would strike and all his troubles would be over.

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Stanford wandered through the gallery, pausing to talk to the visitors, his soft voice answering any questions. He paused at Michael's 'office' door and poked his nose in.

"How goes it?" he asked, stepping forward and closing the door. Their voices were muffled, so the young man could not hear them talk about how they could ship the painting to the rightful owner. He watched them shake hands and ducked out of sight as Stanford left the office and headed into the 'Staff Only' area.

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All in all Michael had had a good week, he had spent time with Mattie, taking her to the pictures one night and babysitting for Jean and Lucien another, and while it wasn't an ideal 'date', once the children were in bed they were able to chat over a whisky. Mattie wasn't one to rush into a relationship, after the one with Joe had gone wrong, and any men she had dated in England had been just so she could get out of the nurse's home for the evening, so she was just happy to spend time in the young man's company and share a not quite chaste kiss at the end of the night.

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Ruby had been uncomfortable all day, barely able to hide her discomfort when Jean and Amelia had visited that afternoon. The doctors had seen her, examined her thoroughly and told her she was likely in the early stages of labour. Lucien had conferred with the hospital staff and they had agreed that close monitoring was required and if it appeared she was going to have trouble they would perform a caesarean section. Her condition, since the incident, had not been as stable as her consultant would have liked. Her blood pressure wavered, sometimes high, sometimes low, too low at one point, she fainted when she sat up. There was some talk as to whether or not she was bleeding internally, but not heavily, and there was no real way to tell, unless she bled so much her pregnant belly became hard, but that would mean they would lose both mother and child, as Lucien said, one evening to Jean, "It's a fine line we are treading."

Jean had asked him to be frank with her, she, too, had noticed Ruby's downward spiral and was very worried about her. She wanted to stop taking Amelia, but the little girl so looked forward to seeing her mother she couldn't.

"Is it because of the fall?" Jean asked, desperately trying to hold the tears back.

"Undoubtedly," he wrapped his arms round her, "I'm sorry Jean, I didn't want to tell you, unless something happened."

"No, I need to know, Lucien, to be prepared," she lay her head against his chest and breathed in his particular scent.

"We would have delivered the baby by now, but we need the pregnancy to go as far as possible, to ensure it is strong enough to survive," he went on, "as you know, baby does a great deal of growing in the last month or so, and really she isn't stable enough to withstand an operation."

"Of course, I know you are doing the best for them."

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"Hey!" Michael shouted, "what do you think you're doing?"

The young man thought the coast was clear. He'd watched Michael lock the door to his office and head out of the gallery. It being lunchtime, there were a few visitors, but not enough to worry him. The trouble was, his lock picking skills were not the best and he had to keep stopping as the odd patron wandered through. Michael had only gone out to call Mattie and ask her to meet him for lunch, if possible. He had to arrange to take the painting to Melbourne to old Mr Munroe, then he would be back, to work at the gallery, on a year's contract. Mattie had agreed to meet him at the little cafe near the gallery but said she couldn't be away for long, as Jean would have to get over to the hospital to see Ruby.

The young man turned and ran, knocking into a couple admiring a statuette of a young girl, reminiscent of a Degas dancer. Why did people keep getting in his way? He stumbled, giving Michael enough time to get to him and grab his arm, pushing him against the wall and pulling the arm up behind his back.

James Stanford heard the commotion and called to the security guard to contact the police. He recognised the face as that of the young man who had tried to take the Tom Roberts painting just over a week ago.

"What do you want?" Michael hissed, "what's the painting to you?"

"It belongs to me," the young man, hissed, "you can't have it."

"It belongs to Ernest Munroe," Michael released his hold as Bill Hobart took over, "who are you anyway?"

"Old man Munroe is my grandfather, but the painting is mine," he struggled against Bill's hold, "or it will be, when he dies."

"But he isn't dead, so the painting is his," Stanford folded his arms, "why can't you wait. I wouldn't have thought it was to the taste of someone like you."

He stuck his bottom lip out, like Amelia, Michael thought, when Jean wouldn't let her have another biscuit. It was almost funny. He had a sudden thought. The first time this man had tried to get the painting and run away from the gallery, it was the day Ruby had been knocked over.

"Are you the drongo that knocked a woman over, in the street?" he drew his brows in.

"Bloody women, always getting in the way," he snarled.

"Well, you idiot, she's pregnant, and now in hospital, because of you," he poked his finger in the man's chest, hard, "if anything happens to her, or the baby, you are going to be in a whole heap of trouble."

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As Michael was uttering this threat Lucien and the consultants were shaking their heads and frowning at the notes the army doctor had finally sent over. Ruby Beazley should not have any more children, after the first pregnancy had shown she had a heart condition that made even the one extremely dangerous to her health. As far as Lucien was aware Jean knew nothing about this, and that she had always believed that Ruby was lazy and a hypochondriac. Now it would appear she was ill informed. Why had they kept this information from Jean, which would have altered her perception of her daughter in law? If they had been made aware of the heart weakness, surely they wouldn't have embarked on another pregnancy. It was too late to do anything about that at the moment, their immediate concern was this pregnancy. Ruby was in a very slow labour, but her strength was failing. They agreed that they would do a section, immediately, and hope they could save both mother and child. Lucien went to phone Jean, and tell her, as gently as possible, that there was a high chance ... he sighed, sadly. He would need to get word to Christopher, as well.

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Jean sank into the kitchen chair, her hand over her mouth to stifle her cry, Amelia mustn't see her like this. Mattie saw her, as she passed the hatch. She was on her way to meet Michael, but, from the look on Jean's face, Michael would have to wait.

"Jean?" she turned on her heel and went to her friend. "What is it?"

"Ruby," Jean choked on the word, "oh, Mattie, she's ..."

"Go, I'll look after the girls," Mattie didn't need to know anymore, she had seen how worried Jean was about the young woman and when she had spoken to Lucien he had been quite frank with her, as she was medically trained and was likely to understand.

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Jean had no idea how she got to the hospital without crashing, but there she was, with Christopher, in Sister's office, a steadily cooling cup of tea in front of her.

"Did you know" she asked, "about her heart?"

"Yes," he whispered, "we were told that if she was very careful, she should be ok, that's why we wanted to be here, where we know the hospital capabilities."

"You should have told me, Christopher," she turned to him and took his hand, "I always thought ..."

"I know, but she didn't want you to know, in case you thought it was just another excuse." He sighed, "I'm sorry, mum."

No more was said, though Jean knew she would be raising her grandchildren, along with her own, adopted children. Thinking two steps ahead, Lucien always said, but this time she had to. She was sad to think they didn't appear to have considered Amelia in all this. Likely the poor child would lose her mother that day, and they were so close, how would they tell her?

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The wait was interminable, but finally a saddened and defeated looking Dr Blake appeared in the office. Christopher and Jean both stood, neither knowing what he was going to tell them. He put his arm round his wife and his other hand on Christopher's shoulder.

"I'm so very sorry, Christopher, Ruby's heart just couldn't take it, the strain was just too much." He sighed, "the baby, a little boy, is ok. Small, but a fighter."

"She always wanted a son," Christopher whispered, not allowing the tears to fall, "a brother for Amelia."

Jean hiccupped against Lucien's chest, was it all worth it? She was both angry and saddened. Angry that they kept so much from her and sad that the little boy would never know his mother, and her granddaughter ... how were they going to tell her? Poor Amelia.

"Can I see her?" Christopher asked, "one last time."

"Of course," Lucien squeezed the shoulder his hand rested on, "we would like to do a full autopsy, but we are sure that it was her heart, however, there may have been other contributing factors."

"You mean the fall?"

"It won't have helped," Lucien agreed, "but until I do the autopsy I won't know if she would have made it. I'm sorry Christopher, it's the last thing I want to do."

"No, doc, please, go ahead," Christopher swallowed, it was the last violation of his wife's body, "I need to know the whole truth. The heart condition was never fully investigated."

"Right, well, I'll let you know, of course," Lucien stood aside to allow the soldier to precede him through the door, "this way." He looked down on Jean, "do you want to come too, or ..."

"Can I see the baby?" she sniffed, "I think I'd rather remember Ruby the way I saw her with Amelia."

"Of course," he kissed the top of her head, "shall I ask Sister to take you down?"

"Please."

"I'll come to you."

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Jean sat cradling her tiny, newborn grandson, so small and fragile, defenceless. She allowed tears to fall as she stroked the soft down on his little head and kissed his forehead. The baby stirred and turned his head to her breast. Jean looked up for a nurse, to ask for a bottle for him, and saw Mattie. Sweet Mattie, with sadness on her face, Lucien must have called her, and here she was, handing her the bottle of milk for the hungry newborn.

Lucien found them, sitting together, Mattie gently rubbing Jean's back while the baby took his feed. When he had rung, briefly telling her what had happened, to ask her to go down to the nursery, she had left the girls with Michael, and Arthur said he would collect Ted from school. Mattie had told Amelia she had to go and do something for granddad, and left before the little girl could ask when she was going to see mummy that day.

The baby finished his bottle and when Jean gently held him to wind him he gave a satisfied burp over her shoulder and left a little sign of his satisfaction.

"What is his name?" Mattie asked, softly.

"I don't know, I didn't ask Christopher," Jean settled the baby in her arms, "I suppose it was the last thing on my mind."

"Of course," Mattie reached over and put her finger in the baby's palm. He curled his tiny fingers round it and she couldn't help but smile.

"We argued about it," neither had noticed Christopher enter the room, " we agreed on James, after her father, if it was a boy."

"James it is, then," Jean smiled a half smile.

"But I would like it to be Christopher James Lucien, to honour both the men who have loved you," he sat on the other side of his mother to Mattie.

"Still, we'll know him as James, for her," Jean turned and lay her head on his shoulder.

"Yes ... mum," he sniffed, then stroked his son's head, "I ... oh hell, mum what do I do? I can't look after two such young children and work to provide for them." He leant his elbows on his knees and held his head in his hands.

"We'll work it out, one way or another," she shifted James so she could stroke his back, "I'm here, always will be."

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Trying to explain to Amelia that she would never see her mother again was the hardest thing any of the adults round her, had to do. She ran away from everybody, trying to hide, hit out at anyone who found her - except Ted. Having had to hear the same news himself he had a way to talk to her. He sat on his bed while she curled up underneath it.

"Your mummy can't see you under there, Amelia," he murmured, "not from heaven."

Her sniffs were her only reply.

"My real mum's up there too," he observed, looking around the room, "she was broken and the doctors couldn't mend her, so God took her. She's not broken up there, in heaven, but she can still see me n' Julia, 'cept not under the bed." It didn't matter that Pat was not a loving mother, Ted still believed she had done a loving thing by letting Jean and Lucien adopt them.

A little head of dark curls pushed out and the deep blue eyes turned up to look at him. It never occurred to her that any other child would go through what she was going through. She was only four, she had never encountered such a thing, though she did know old people went to heaven, when they were worn out, so daddy said.

"D'you think so?" she hiccupped.

"Course, that's what they teach us in school, and mum and dad agreed, so it must be right," he still waited for her to climb up beside him, "and, you do know she left you something very special, a brother, James, you have to watch out for him, like I do for Julia."

She climbed onto the bed, "Ted," she looked at him, "will you help me, only I don't know where we will go, 'cos daddy goes away a lot, and I don't know who will look after me ... and James?"

"You bet," he grinned, "I expect you can stay here, shall I ask mum?" He looked at her, "if you want to, that is."

"I think I'd like that," she pushed her thumb into her mouth, a habit she had just about grown out of, "gran'ma will know what to do, and granddad."

"Come on," he slipped off the bed and held out his hand, "let's go and find her, she'll probably be in the kitchen, or the sunroom."

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Jean had straightened her back, washed her face and re-applied her makeup, and was watering some of her plants in the sunroom. She turned when she heard the little footsteps and smiled. Putting down the watering can she held her arms out to the children and took them onto her knee on the small bench.

Amelia leant into her shoulder and sucked hard on the thumb, exhausted and still confused.

"Mum," Ted shifted into her, "can Amelia stay here, and James?" he looked up at her, "only she needs someone to look after her and help her."

Jean looked down at the two children and swallowed the lump in her throat, she knew it would come to this, but it would seem that the boy, all Blake in spite of everything that had happened in his short life, had come to the same conclusion and, as well as looking out for Julia he was going to look out for Amelia too.

"Of course they can," she gave him a little squeeze, "I even suggested it to daddy, sweetheart," she addressed the little girl, "we love you all, and you are always welcome here, for as long as you want to stay."

"Thank you, gran'ma," Amelia whispered, and, as the exhaustion overwhelmed her, she allowed her eyes to close and fell into a light sleep where she sat.

Lucien found her cradling her granddaughter in the sunroom, staring out over the garden where four children and their friends would play. Ted had left them and gone to explain to his father and Christopher what they had decided. It had made the two men smile, that he had 'organised' Amelia's accommodation for as long as necessary and apparently assured the little girl she would be safe.

He sat beside her and leant over the sleeping child to kiss her lightly on the cheek. They had so much to do, in the coming days, but this quiet was what was needed just now, he had suggested they have fish and chips for dinner, and Arthur and Michael were heading down to the shop to place the large order - Mattie had given them a list.

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They lay in bed staring up at the gold flecks on the ceiling. Jean had cried on Lucien's chest for a while and he had let her work out her pain and the little bit of anger for Christopher and Ruby, going ahead with a second pregnancy, knowing it was putting her life at risk. The autopsy had shown that the young mother may not have survived the birthing process, even if she hadn't had the extra shock of the fall. It was, however, a contributory factor in her death and the young man, David Munroe, was to be charged with manslaughter. It had been a long story, his grandfather had come to the conclusion that the boy was a wastrel, good for nothing, lazy and greedy. He had never done a day's work, never sought to better himself through education, relied on the family to support him. When he had been told he was being cut out of the will, unless he changed his ways, he had decided that the missing painting that the young Englishman was searching for would solve all his problems. He had found a buyer, a collector of Tom Roberts' work, and a very good price had been agreed. Following Michael about the country had been the easiest thing, because he didn't know he was being followed. All he had to do was bide his time and when it was found, take it and sell it.

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"Then that stupid woman got in the way," he sneered in the interview with Superintendant Lawson and Senior Sergeant Hobart, "why do they have to wander about, getting in the way of folk?"

"That 'stupid woman'," Matthew snarled, "was Mrs Ruby Beazley, and in your haste to get away you knocked her over. She was pregnant, and because of the fall she had her baby early but she didn't survive the birth. That leaves the child, and a little girl, without a mother and a young Lieutenant without a wife."

Munroe pouted, Matthew closed the file and stood up. "Take him to the cells, Hobart, please," he grunted, "we'll send him for trial in the morning."

"Right, Boss," Hobart dragged Munroe up from his seat, "come on you toerag," he snarled. He didn't know Ruby, except to nod at in passing, but that didn't matter, two children had lost their mother because of this little fool, and that wasn't right.

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Matthew dragged himself and his heavy heart up to the office, the final bit of paperwork to finish, then he was off home to Alice and a healthy shot of whisky. However, when he got back to his desk his wife was perched on the corner, reading a file, the full autopsy file. She hadn't assisted Lucien on this one being out of town giving evidence in court. It filled her with sorrow, that two small children had lost their mother through the stupid actions of a selfish and lazy young man, though the fact that Ruby had a heart condition, the left ventricle of her heart was hardened, rare in a young person, hadn't helped. She had met Ruby and found her pleasant and a good mother, at least better than hers.

She looked up as Matthew entered and put the file down.

He didn't smile, he seemed to have lost the ability over the past few hours, even though she looked lovely. She wore a simple sleeveless shift dress, white with two black lines from the left shoulder to the hem, separated by a wide band of blue, and similar lines just below the hips separated by a wide band of red. The matching jacket lay across her knees. It was unusual for Alice to wear white, unless it was a blouse, but the style and colour suited her, it looked fresh and bright. To most it appeared she was bowing to the fashion of the day, but to them it hid their greatest secret, the, now, four month stage of her pregnancy. Only Lucien knew, and he had kept it even from Jean. Matthew was the more nervous of the parents to be, his memories of Peg surfaced on occasion, and now, Ruby. She had a feeling he would expect her to see Dr Blake, in his professional capacity. Lucien was aware of Matthew's worries and was never surprised when she asked to see him, even though he assured his old friend that she was healthy and strong and was sailing through, she even forgot at times, it didn't seemed to disrupt her life at all. She held her arms out for him as he walked towards her.

"Bad case, Matthew," she nodded to the file in his hand, "poor Amelia."

"Yeah," he put the file down and wrapped his arms round her, "bloody awful, though Lucien says she should never have gone for a second baby."

"So I see," she tipped her head and kissed him, "but she did. He also can't be certain that the fall was the ultimate cause of her death, reading between the lines, the added strain on her damaged heart from the pregnancy could have been enough."

"Alice ..."

"I'm fine, perfectly fine, dearest Matthew," she laid her hand on his cheek, "but, yes, before you ask, I will see Lucien, just not today."

"I'm sorry, for being a bit of an old woman," he sighed, "it's just ..."

"Come on, bring that file, if you have to do anything with it, let's go home," she slipped off the desk and held her hand out to him, grabbing the jacket with the other.

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Over the next week there was much reorganising of the Blake house. Arthur and Michael said they would find somewhere else as soon as they could, but Jean liked having them around. Arthur was cheerful and helpful, he was interested in Lucien's work and they spent time together, getting to know even more about their parents and swapping ideas on everything they could.

Jean looked at the rooms in the house. For the first week, she spent time in the hospital nursery, getting to know her grandson. Amelia didn't like this, that she wasn't allowed to go and meet her brother so Lucien worked out a way for this to happen. Jean said he would annoy the Sister in the nursery, he said it was his decision, as James' doctor.

They headed down to the hospital one sunny afternoon. Amelia clutched a small teddy bear for her brother that she had chosen. Jean wasn't sure if he would be allowed to keep it while he was in hospital but she would do her best, if not it could sit in the cot until he came home.

Jean smiled at Sister as she donned a gown, Sister nodded and raised her eyebrows at the sight of the little girl.

"This is Amelia, Sister," Jean introduced her, "she is James' sister. Is there anyone else in the nursing room?"

"Not at the moment," Sister murmured, "do you wish to feed him in there?"

"Yes please," Jean turned her back for Lucien to tie the gown then headed off, after smiling at Amelia and patting her head.

"Granddad," Amelia whispered, "where's James?"

"You'll see him in a few minutes," Lucien smiled, and reached over for another gown, "here, you need one of these."

It was far too big for her, reaching to the floor and beyond, and he had to roll the sleeves up, but she was covered. He lifted her up into his arms and kissed her.

"Come on, time to meet James," he carried her through the door she had seen her grandmother disappear through. Sister gasped when she saw them.

"Dr Blake," she pulled him to one side, "children aren't allowed in the nursery, you know that."

"Amelia is going to meet her brother," he smiled, "she has a gown on, has no infections, cough or cold, they will be fine." He kept the thought that as soon as he came home, James would be introduced to a school child who would be carrying heaven knew what from school, and another child who had a fancy for poking her fingers into anything and everything new, to himself. In fact, by the next day they were sure they would have sorted out the sleeping arrangements for all the children, so maybe James could come home then. He carried on into the room where Jean sat feeding James, lost in that world. He sat Amelia in the chair next to her grandmother and squatted in front of her.

"This is your baby brother, Amelia," he spoke softly, "James."

Amelia's eyes opened wider than he had ever seen them, her mouth formed an 'O'.

"You can touch him, if you want," Jean looked at her and smiled, "look his foot is poking out."

Amelia tentatively reached over and touched his toes. James pulled back his foot and she giggled.

"When he's finished, would you like to give him a cuddle?" Jean asked, thinking it would strengthen the bond. Amelia nodded, vigorously. Lucien kissed them both and left them, hoping to see Sister and talk about James' release from hospital to their home. Jean and Mattie had collected all the baby things Ruby had put aside for him, and the bassinet, which now stood in their bedroom. They had bought bottles and formula, decided that Amelia and Julia would share the bedroom the children were currently sleeping in, Ted would move into the guest room and Arthur would move upstairs into Charlie's old room. In time, Jean had said, James would share with Ted.

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Lucien returned from seeing Sister, she had agreed that perhaps James could go home, as there was a doctor and a nurse there. Amelia, with Jean's help, was cradling her brother, his heart broke for the little girl, and for Ruby who would never see this.

"I'm sure she can," Jean was saying, tears in her eyes.

"Who can what?" he squatted back in front of them, slipping his finger into the baby's palm.

"Amelia wanted to know if her mummy can see her, from heaven, cuddling James," she smiled sadly.

"Absolutely, of course," why dispel a child's hope just because he had lost his faith.

"Ted says she can't see me under the bed," Amelia turned her deep blue eyes on Lucien, "but I don't know why."

"Er," Lucien ran his hand over his head, "I expect the mattress gets in the way."

"Ok," she seemed satisfied with that idea, but it told both Lucien and Jean why Ted had been able to do what they couldn't, that day they told her she would never see her mother again.

Jean took the baby and stood up, "time for him to go back to his crib, sweetie," she smiled, "and for you to go home."

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Lucien took Amelia into the house, Jean was going to follow after picking up Ted from school. Michael was on his way to the station to head to Melbourne and Munroe.

"I'll be back, though I will find somewhere else to stay," he shook Lucien's hand, "Jean has enough to do."

Lucien didn't answer, Jean had said she didn't mind, because everybody helped out anyway, but he'd leave it to her. Michael would be gone a week, by then James would be home and the funeral for Ruby would be over.

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	24. Chapter 24

Christopher kissed Amelia and stroked his baby son's head. It had been a month since Ruby's death and he felt ready now to face the world, go back to his duties with the army. The children were staying with Jean and Lucien, Family Welfare had been informed but Jean was their grandmother and it was his wish that his children were cared for by her, whenever he had leave he would come home to them.

"Be a good girl for grandma, sweetheart," he whispered, "I'll see you soon."

"Love you, daddy," she clung round his neck.

"I love you too, Amelia, and I will be back, I promise." He turned to Jean, "thanks, mum, for everything. I'm sorry you are picking up after me, again ..."

"You are my son," she lifted her free hand to touch his cheek, "these are my grandchildren, now go," she reached over the sleeping infant, "or you'll miss your train."

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The house was busy when she got back, the Mother's group was reconvening at their house after using a spare room at the Tyneman house while things were sorted out. Susan hadn't been happy about it, but Harriet had insisted, Jean did not need children and needy mothers over the house at such a time, and it was only temporary. Susan decided she would use that day for shopping - in Melbourne.

As Amelia waited for Jean to lift her little brother in his basket off the back seat she looked at the garage.

"Gran'ma," she tugged her skirt, "what's in there?"

"Not much, sweetie," she turned, James was waking for a feed, "old bits and bobs, probably a lot of dust."

She ushered the child to the front door, musing on the question, and wondering...

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Amelia knew there would be a few more children in the house that day, but she had never been there during group sessions. Jean hoped it would be good for her, she would be starting school the following year, at Dana Street, and learning to be with other children would help. She knew it would be hard for the little girl, all those children with mummies and her without one, she expected her to stay close. Lucien had some patients but he would be around, unless he was needed at the morgue, Mattie would be on duty as practice nurse, and she wanted to discuss Robert Farmer's latest test results with him so she would not be around. Alice and Matthew had called several times, to see if they could do anything to help. Jean had welcomed their concern, Alice said she would need advice in the not too distant future so perhaps she could 'hang around' during group, occasionally?

"Really?" Jean raised her eyebrows, "oh Alice, that's wonderful, isn't it?"

"Once we got over the shock," Alice smiled, "Matthew's being over protective ..."

"And how are you coping with that?" Jean imagined it would drive her mad.

"Oh, I try not to let it bother me," she shrugged her shoulders, "because of Peg, his first wife, he worries I will have similar problems. So, if anything happens I come and see Lucien, we chat, he tells me I'm fine, which I know, and Matthew is happy and I get to drink tea and eat your shortbread."

"I wondered why you were here more often than usual," Jean smiled, "so, you want to meet some mothers, then?"

"More observe." Alice blushed slightly, "it's not my area of expertise, childcare. I thought I could perhaps ..." what she wasn't sure, "er, just be here, for you and Amelia."

"Alice, I would love you to join us," Jean touched her arm, "and I know Amelia and Julia would like it, too."

"Right," she inhaled, "well, I'll pop along when it starts again, at your house, shall I?" she had said, though Jean did wonder if she would.

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There was a knock at the door fifteen or so minutes into the session. Everyone had settled, the awkward air had just about cleared and James had been cooed over. Jean passed the baby to Mrs Stevens and went to see who would be calling, all Lucien's patients were already in the waiting room.

"Alice," she smiled and stepped aside to let the pathologist in, "you made it."

"Yes," Alice drew herself up, "I had some paperwork to sort out," which was true, " so I thought ..."

"Come on, they don't bite," Jean smiled reassuringly, "there's shortbread," she grinned.

"You know, Jean," Alice hung her coat up, "that's the only thing I have a craving for, shortbread, yours in particular."

"Oh, well, thank you, I think," Jean felt it was a compliment, "I didn't have any cravings, ah ... here's Amelia," the little girl had come to see where Gran'ma had gone. "I think she's feeling left out, everyone is drooling over James."

"I remember that feeling," Alice held out her hand to the child, "it happened to me when my sister was born. Hello, Amelia, how are you today?"

Amelia just smiled, as she usually did to this question from Alice, and Alice, in return, was just happy with the smile.

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Several faces turned when the more mature mother-to-be entered holding the hand of the child they had practically ignored. Alice nodded when Jean introduced her as a colleague of the doctor's.

"Tea, Alice?" Jean moved over to the table.

"Lovely, thank you," Alice let Amelia climb up and sit on her knee, they had connected when Alice had visited, both quiet people they seemed to enjoy each other's company.

"Auntie Alice," Amelia whispered, "will you read me a story, please?"

"How about after lunch, you and me in the sunroom?" she smiled back, "James will be napping, that suit you?"

Amelia nodded and played with the light silk scarf Alice had round her neck.

Alice listened more than she spoke, answering questions but not asking any. She watched Julia interact with the younger children, and occasionally bring something over to Amelia.

"Amelia," Jean held out her arms for her, "why don't you let Auntie Alice drink her tea, Julia has the bricks out, you could build towers, see who builds the tallest."

Amelia slid down and did as asked. Jean was concerned the session was too much for her, she was unusually quiet, struggling with sharing Julia. Alice noticed as well, she was usually so chatty with her, even recently, but now ... Perhaps it was because everyone was fussing over James, she wondered how it would affect her relationship with the little girl, who she had become rather fond of, perhaps she should remember what it was like to be the eldest and take that into consideration when her child was born. Of course, Amelia's only experience of a pregnant woman had not gone so well for her, was this playing on her mind? She had pointedly ignored the growing bump. A talk with Jean was in order, she thought.

Julia toddled over to Jean. " Mama," she touched her knee, "Melia's bigges'," she turned and pointed to the two towers.

"It is, isn't it, darling," Jean ran her hand over the top of Julia's red curls, "well done, Amelia, perhaps a piece of shortbread, as a reward?"

"Thank you, Gran'ma," Amelia stood by the table and waited to be offered the plate.

James started to stir in Mrs Stevens' arms. She offered the baby to Jean but Alice stood up and took him, "you look after Amelia," she smiled, "I can do this."

"Thanks, Alice, the bottle is in the kitchen," Jean had already given Alice nappy changing lessons, and she had been there when James was being fed, so she had no worries the pathologist would not be able to cope. And she was right, Amelia needed her more, at the moment.

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Amelia was visibly relieved when the last of the mothers left. The only one who had paid her any attention, apart from Alice, was Harriet Tyneman who had actively engaged the shy little girl in conversation and asked for her help with her James, making her feel grown up.

With everyone gone; except Alice, who was staying for lunch; and James in his pram in the garden, Jean turned her attention to the meal.

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Mattie and Lucien joined them for lunch. Surgery had gone well and they were happy with Robert's progress.

True to her word, Mrs Farmer had called the police when she had found her husband still at home after Robert was admitted to hospital; he was charged with neglect - of his son, and was now languishing in a prison cell in Melbourne. Further examinations on the child had revealed some damage to his eyesight and hearing. He was quieter than he had been, when he first came with his mother, but he didn't appear to miss his father. He smiled a lot more, played much better with the other children and was generally nicer to be around once they returned to the group. He struggled to cope with the glasses he was given but Lucien had told his mother time would tell, for now his sight was good enough for him to get round, it would be reading and writing he would need them for. The hearing aids were a better solution to his hearing, and he wore them without complaint. Mrs Farmer said he didn't sleep as well as he used to, so Lucien suggested she leave a radio on, low, in his room. He probably noticed that he couldn't hear people in the house and instead of noise waking him the silence did; it was a comfort, the radio, he knew there was someone about, keeping him safe. The low hum of chatter on the radio would serve as an alternative to chatter in the house.

"I think he'll be fine," Lucien helped the little girls to bread and ham, making up their sandwiches for them, "he's coping with the hearing aids, though the glasses prove a trial. They annoy him, and keep falling off. Every time they get adjusted by the optician they hurt."

"His nose is too small, I suppose, for them to sit on," Jean passed the salad bowl to Alice, "perhaps something soft to cushion the side of his head and a band round his head, from the arms ..."

"Right," he looked at her, "I'll see what I can do." He turned his attention to Alice, "how did you find it, the group?"

He had thought she might find it uncomfortable, being surrounded by women and babies.

"Fine," she smiled, "interesting, I suppose." Truth was, she wasn't sure. There had been some probing questions, such as, "would she continue to work after the baby was born?" She had replied that she would, if she could find a day nanny. That had got some sniffing from one or two, but she had ignored it, especially as Jean had applauded her aims and said if there was anything she could do to help she had only to ask. One, Mrs Gallagher, had noted she seemed quite comfortable feeding a baby.

"She seemed quite astounded when I said I was planning on feeding the baby myself," Alice watched for a reaction. She had had this conversation with Jean, who had reminded her of the advantages, if she was able to, "I know bottles are ... shall we say ... more fashionable, but ..."

"Good for you," Lucien smiled, "best for both of you ..."

"Though you mustn't be disappointed if it doesn't work for you," Jean interrupted, "not everybody can."

"So Matthew's on nappies then?" he laughed.

"Absolutely," she grinned back.

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After lunch, Alice kept her promise to Amelia, reading in the sunroom, not even Julia invaded their time together, though she would have liked to. Jean took her into Ballarat, with James, to get some new shoes, they would return after picking Ted up from school.

"We shall see you later, then," Alice smiled and looked down at Amelia, "won't we, Amelia?"

Amelia nodded, "ok, bye Gran'ma," she tugged Alice's hand in the direction of the sunroom.

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Alice's voice, when she read to Amelia, was full of expression, she brought the stories of Winnie the Pooh and his friends to life for the child. Amelia hung on every word, getting very worried when Pooh got stuck in Rabbit's hole but she said it was mean of Rabbit to dress Pooh's bottom and legs up to look like a table.

"You shouldn't laugh at people that have got stuck, jus' 'cos he's a bit tubby," she stuck out her lower lip.

"No, Amelia, you shouldn't," Alice agreed, "shall I read you one of the poems instead?"

"Yes please," Amelia adjusted her position, "can you read the one about the beetle."

"Forgiven?" Alice turned the pages and found the one she wanted. "right, here goes, 'I found a little beetle; so that Beetle was his name ..."

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Jean stood just inside the doorway, motioning to Julia to be silent, it was one of her favourites too.

When Alice got to, "And Nanny's very sorry too, for you know what she did,

And she's writing Alexander, very blackly on the lid,

So Nan and me are friends, because it's difficult to catch,

An excited Alexander, you've mistaken for a match."

Amelia jumped up and clapped, "yay! they found Alexander!"

Jean laughed, Alice turned and blushed.

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Once the children were in bed, the adults sat down with their evening drinks and chatted about the day. Matthew had had a fairly ordinary, even boring, day, but as they were few and far between he didn't really mind. He smiled when Jean told him about Alice reading Winnie the Pooh to Amelia.

"Honestly, Matthew," she snuggled against Lucien, "she's going to be a great mother."

"I know," he put his arm round Alice, "I know."

"Come on, superintendant," she patted his knee, "time to go home."

"Very well, doctor," he heaved himself up off the couch and held out his hand for his wife.

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As Jean curled up against Lucien in bed she mused on how much their life had changed. They were just about to celebrate their second wedding anniversary and so much had happened.

"Penny for them?" Lucien hummed against her head.

"Just thinking how much has happened, in two years," she wasn't sure he would remember their anniversary. She had marked it on the calendar, but it would be on a Monday, this year, not a good day to take time away from the surgery.

"Indeed," he mentally flicked through the dates, perhaps he'd better organise something. It was difficult with four children in the house, and one only a tiny baby, "some good some not so much."

"All in all," she tipped her head to look at him, "I think the good outweigh the bad."

"All the work seems to fall on your shoulders, darling girl," he shifted so they could have a proper conversation, "perhaps you should have help, now, with the heavy housework." Jean had always maintained she could manage herself and didn't want to change the way the household was run.

"You all pitch in," she told him, "but ... perhaps you're right, now. Not every day, maybe a couple of times a week?"

"You work out which are your busiest days, then we can advertise for someone," he smiled, "set out what you would want them to do."

"Alright, I'll do that this week," she wriggled against him, "now, another thing occurred to me, well it was Amelia really."

"Amelia," he stroked her arm, hoping that conversation about the household was over, "what has she done?"

"Oh, nothing to worry about," she grinned, "only, when we came back from the station she asked what was in the garage, and I had a thought ..."

"Go on," she usually had good ideas, such as employing a practice nurse, "what did you think?"

"The group sessions; we have to move the dining room around, every time, and we can't use one of the other rooms, not now really, so ... it would need cleaning, and probably a lick of paint. I don't know if there's any power for lighting ..."

"... or plumbing, you should have a loo, and maybe a little kitchen area, then it would all be self contained," he grinned, "it's a great idea."

"So, you don't mind?"

"Why would I mind?" he raised his eyebrows, "we don't use it, except to dump stuff we don't need, we'll get the right people in to sort it out and then you can use it for whatever you want."

By 'we' she knew it would be down to her, but she knew most of the right people to do such things and she didn't mind.

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As she gave James his early morning feed she poked her nose into the girls' bedroom. Amelia didn't sleep particularly well, these days, and it was a habit she had got into, checking she wasn't crying, quietly. She wasn't but might have been at some time, Julia appeared to have crawled into bed with her and they were cuddled together, Julia's arm over her step niece? cousin? friend? or all three, Amelia's thumb was firmly pushed into her mouth, it was quite sweet and touching. Her granddaughter had a long road to travel, but with Julia and Ted's help, as well as her grandparents, she would never be alone on that journey.

Lucien appeared at her shoulder, the empty side of the bed had woken him, "alright?" he asked, softly.

"I think so," Jean turned, "maybe this is the best way forward, to let our children lead her, I can't even imagine what she is going through."

"Me neither," he put his arm over his wife's shoulder, "I was old enough to be told something, old enough to have some understanding - she's just a baby, far too young to go through anything like this."

They headed back to their bedroom as James came to the end of his bottle, he would be winded and placed back in his bassinet in the corner, and Jean and Lucien would curl up and go to sleep again, as usual.

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Mattie knocked on the door of the bungalow. It was Matthew's day off and he had persuaded Alice to take the same day each week, but today Mattie was going to disturb their peace.

Alice answered the door, and to Mattie's relief she was up and dressed, so at least she hadn't disturbed them ...

"Alice, sorry," she smiled, "I know it's yours and Matthew's day off, but could I have a quick word?"

"Of course, what's wrong?"

"Nothing ... good morning, Matthew," she greeted the man as he limped down the hall, "it's Jean and Lucien."

"Problems?"

"No, but, do you realise the date?"

"March ... oh, yes," Alice gasped, "almost their anniversary."

"They didn't do much last year, with the children arriving and everything else, they should do something this year, and I know it's playing on Lucien's mind." Mattie sat down, "but with four children ..."

"What are you thinking?" Alice rubbed her bump, she had started to feel the kicks.

"I'm thinking that the three of us could look after them if Jean and Lucien went away, just for a night or two." Mattie waited for a reaction. "I can manage James, Ted needs taking to school and the girls just need looking after, feeding etcetera ... if you two came to stay ..."

Matthew's eyebrows shot up, they had barely got used to the thought of having one baby reliant on them for everything, Mattie was suggesting they take on four ... all at once!

"There's bound to be something on, in Melbourne, that Lucien could take Jean to see ..."

"I don't see why not," Alice mused, "with your help, if there are no appointments for Lucien to deal with, you'll be at work, Matthew, I can take some time, holiday ... just call me in if you need an autopsy doing."

"Are you sure, it's a lot to ask, but Amelia adores you, Alice, and Julia worships you Matthew ..." Mattie was pleased that Alice could see it was doable.

"Alright, just hope Jean is ok with it," Matthew sighed.

"She doesn't need to know, until it's too late," Mattie stood up grinning, "I'll pack for her, and get Lucien to book the hotel and show. Thank you, both of you."

"Jean does a heck of a lot for so many, us included," Matthew was gradually warming to the idea, "I guess it's our turn to do something for her."

"Right."

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"Are you sure, Mattie?" Lucien hissed, between patients in the surgery.

"Absolutely, it's all organised," she passed him the notes for the next patient, "all you have to do is book the hotel and the show. I know you want to do something for her, and all you've done since you got married is take on two children, allowed a mother and baby group to take over the house each week, taken the family on holiday, taken in your step granddaughter and grandson ... time to do something for yourselves. Besides, Alice needs the practise." At this last she laughed, then left him to deal with Susan Tyneman's frequent headaches, which she was sure were due to too much alcohol in the evenings. Susan drank rather more than she should do, since Patrick died, according to Harriet.

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"Lucien," Jean protested, "we can't."

He loaded the suitcase into the car, "yes we can," he smiled, "I've told you, Mattie will be here, Alice and Matthew are taking over her room for the two nights; she's taking ours so she can look after James, it's all arranged," he opened the car door for her.

"Amelia, she ..."

"... has Alice, she'll be fine, and, before you ask, she has been told, so have Julia and Ted," he stood there, his hand on the car door, "now, Mrs Blake, in you get."

She looked back at the house, Mattie stood at the door, James in one arm and holding Julia by the other hand. Amelia stood, smiling, holding Julia's other hand. All looked quite happy.

Arthur strolled up the drive, he had promised to be around, though now he had found a flat that he could rent that was big enough for him and Michael, he was less in evidence than he had been. He liked Ballarat and was thinking of making it his permanent home, especially as an engineering firm, was looking for a buyer.

"Go and have a lovely time," he smiled, "you deserve it, Jean, how much trouble can we get into, in two days?"

Jean raised her eyebrows but could see she was beaten. The children would be fine, they had plenty of adults to look after them, responsible adults, and it would be nice, just to be with her husband, for a little while.

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The drive to Melbourne was quiet and the further they got from home the more relaxed she became. Lucien stole the odd glance at her, smiling to himself, grateful that their friends were looking out for them. When Mattie had told him that he could take Jean away for a couple of days, he was unsure. He knew Jean would not want to leave the children, but the more she told him, about how Matthew and Alice were going to go over and stay, that Arthur would be around and Michael too, when he returned from delivering his painting and finishing his work in Melbourne, the more he saw it as a very good idea. So he had booked them a suite at a hotel and tickets to see Les Sylphides. While they were on their honeymoon he had taken her to the theatre in most of the cities they had stayed in, she had seen plays, operas, operettas, musicals - all manner of productions but they had never found a ballet on - so he hoped she would like it.

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Jean turned over and gazed at his profile. When they arrived at the hotel he had said the journey was tiring, perhaps they'd better have a nap before the theatre and dinner. Of course, a 'nap' was not exactly what he had on his mind. It had been rather a long time since he had been able to take her to bed in the afternoon and he was determined to make the most of it, and she was prepared to let him. So they had left all thoughts of children and surgeries and autopsies outside the door to the suite and made slow, luxurious love, without the fear of a knock on the door or a crying baby close by. She stretched, running her toes down his calf, feeling the muscles tense. She giggled as he groaned, then slipped out of bed and went to find the robe she hoped Mattie had packed for her. When Lucien had told her that the packing had been done for her she was a little embarrassed that Mattie would have been through her underwear. Some of it Lucien had bought for her in Paris and was a little risqué, well for Ballarat, but he had assured her that he had packed those things for her, based on what he wanted to see when he undressed her. Jean had blushed, nothing was what he usually wanted to see!

She found the robe he had bought for her, navy blue satin with butterflies and flowers embroidered over it, and slipped it on before heading to the bathroom.

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Lucien woke to see her hanging his dinner suit up and taking her blue evening gown into the bathroom to steam the creases out. She turned and blew him a kiss.

"I'm going to have a bath," she smiled, "we should get ready, if the performance starts at seven."

"Want me to scrub your back?" he asked, hopefully.

Her answer was to point at her wrist, and although she didn't have her watch on, he knew what she meant. Scrubbing her back meant more than that and they would be late for the theatre, something she considered extremely bad manners.

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The ballet was wonderful, ethereal and lyrical, Chopin's music perfectly matched with the dance. It was paired with a Schumann piece, 'Papillons', also beautiful. Jean was entranced. Lucien could be forgiven for being more interested in how the human body could tolerate such stresses, but the music eventually took his mind off that and he settled to enjoying the performance.

"That was beautiful, Lucien," she slipped her hand through his arm, and they headed out to find the restaurant where he had booked their table. As they joined the jostling audience on the theatre steps Jean was knocked and lost her footing. If it wasn't for her hand through the crook in her husband's she would have fallen. She somehow hung onto him until he could hold her firmly round her trim waist and steady her.

"Damn!" a voice cursed, "I'm so sorry, are you alright?" An elderly gentleman stopped and looked at them. His mouth dropped open, "Jean? Jean Randall?"

Jean blinked, trying to put a name to the face, but they were being knocked and bumped by other people and she was finding it hard to name him. He obviously knew her from years ago, back in Ballarat, because where else would she be known as 'Randall'?

"It is you, isn't it?"

"Er, it was," she stuttered, "Blake now."

"Shall we move out of the way, Jean?" Lucien patted her arm, "or you're going to be knocked over, again."

"Yes, yes, of course," she smiled up at him, "perhaps over there." She pointed to a clear part of the pavement, away from the crowd.

The gentleman realised she didn't recognise him, however much he thought she hadn't changed he had, he knew.

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Lucien held out his hand to the stranger and introduced himself.

"Blake eh?" he nodded, "I knew your father."

"You are clearly from Ballarat, but ..."

"Its' been a long time since I was there, except for a quick visit, but some people stick in your memory, for the right reasons," the man smiled at Jean, "I taught you history, Jean, you were rather good at that subject."

"Mr Hays?" Jean's eyes opened wide, "is it really you?"

"It is, my dear," he laughed, "you haven't changed a bit, it's your eyes, you see, I recognised your eyes. Anyway, I mustn't keep you ..."

"It's lovely to see you again, if you are ever in Ballarat ..." she had relaxed now, "we live at Dr Blake's house."

"My daughter and son in law are there, perhaps I will take you up on the offer," he started to move off, "good night."

"Good night," they watched him move off, "what are the odds?" Lucien added.

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Over a light post-theatre supper they discussed the evening. Jean had loved the ballet, so pretty.

"It was different to what I thought it would be," she mused over her poached salmon, "somehow you never imagine you will hear the footsteps, dance steps? but that takes nothing away, it was lovely, expressed the music beautifully."

"I'm glad you liked it, it was the one type of performance we never got to see on our honeymoon," Lucien smiled, "perhaps another time we could see Swan Lake, or Sleeping Beauty, more story lead."

"I'd like that, but what about you? What would you like to see next?" she knew he chose things with her in mind, rather than things he was particularly interested in.

"Perhaps a Jazz Club, one day," he smiled, he had wondered how she would feel about a dark, smoky atmosphere.

"I've never been to any kind of club, well not a music club, anyway," she admitted, but until two years ago she had been a widowed housekeeper, the only clubs she would attend were run by the church, and she hadn't really enjoyed even the thought of something like that. A Jazz Club sounded infinitely more interesting.

"Well then," he laughed, "a Jazz Club it is then."

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They awoke late the next morning, after a night of touching and tasting, making love with more freedom than at home. They had another day in the city so, after a long bath where Lucien got the chance to 'scrub' her back, they ordered breakfast in their suite and thought about what they could do for the day.

"Lucien," she teased as he suggested an activity that meant they wouldn't leave their room, "maybe later," she looked up at him from beneath her lashes, "perhaps we should go for a walk, perhaps the National Gallery?"

"As you wish my dear," he smiled, "the National, then lunch then ..."

Jean shook her head and smiled, really, he had a one track mind!

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There was an exhibition of Impressionism, French and Australian; the Heidelberg School; at the gallery, and a room devoted to Degas paintings and sculptures which entranced Jean.

After a light lunch in a small cafe, Lucien steered Jean towards Little Collins Street, where his preferred jewellers were. He had decided to treat her further, to a piece of jewellery, namely, if he could find what he was looking for, an eternity ring.

"Lucien," she pulled him away from gazing in a window, "please, you spoil me enough."

"No, I insist," he had seen something perfect for her, "it may not be the conventional way, to have children, but an eternity ring is customary, and I want to buy one for you."

Christopher had never even mooted the idea, not even after two sons, in fact she was lucky to get a bunch of flowers or a box of chocolates, perhaps she deserved this. Lucien certainly thought so.

The jeweller smiled at the couple and pulled the cushion he asked for from the window display.

"This one, sir?" he asked, pointing to a diamond and emerald ring. It had two bands of gold that crossed over. Where it crossed over there were alternate stones.

"That's the one," Lucien nodded.

Jean took a deep breath, it was beautiful. He took her hand and slipped it on. "Perfect," he smiled.

"Oh, Lucien."

"One for every child," he bent over and kissed her hand.

She counted, "Christopher, Jack ..." oh heavens, where was her bad boy? ..."Ted, Julia, Amelia, James," there were two stones left, she looked at him, a question on her face.

"... the little girl, and, if you forgive my forwardness, Li."

"Oh," she gulped the tears back, "Lucien, you remembered, and of course Li, she is part of the family ... our family." She stroked the side of his face and reached up to kiss him, softly. "She would have been Esther, after Christopher's mother, Essie, we nicknamed her."

"Essie is lovely," he smiled again, then looked over at the jeweller, "perfect, thank you."

While the jeweller headed into the back of the shop, to find a box for the ring, Jean looked around. She spotted a pair of cufflinks, and smiled. More novelty than jewellery they were fashioned like crossed paintbrushes. A reminder of his mother, who he would speak of more these days, without the pain of loss. She caught the eye of the assistant, hovering in the background, learning the tricks of the trade she assumed.

"Yes, madam," he nodded, solemnly, "lovely pair, very unusual. Originally made for an artist but ... ah well," he intoned, lugubriously, "I can see you are very taken with them."

Jean tried not to laugh. He was far too young to be so solemn, but, "yes, I think they will be perfect, my mother in law," she had never really thought of Genevieve that way, but, though she was long gone, she was just that, "was an artist."

"Of course," he still didn't smile, but took the cufflinks and settled them in a box. She paid for them, and waited while Lucien completed his purchase. Her gift, she would give to him later.

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She giggled.

They had made love. He had led her into the suite as if they were newlyweds. Slowly undressing her, kissing each part of her as he exposed it: her shoulders, arms, moving over her torso, slipping the straps of her bra down ... she had trouble keeping upright...so she didn't. She let him propel her, gently, backwards to the bed where he finished undressing her, and surveyed his work, laid out before him...

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"I must thank Mattie for organising us," she sighed, as they pulled onto the drive.

"Indeed," he drew up in front of the garage, "I hope they've coped."

"I'm sure they have, but we're back now," she took his offered hand and slid elegantly out of the car, "and, wonderful as it was, to have the time to ourselves, this is where we belong, Lucien - home."

"Home," he pulled her to him and kissed her.

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Just for those who are not familiar with the work of A A Milne, here is 'Forgiven' in full.

Forgiven

I found a little beetle; so that Beetle was his name,  
And I called him Alexander and he answered just the same.  
I put him in a match-box, and I kept him all the day ...  
And Nanny let my beetle out -  
Yes, Nanny let my beetle out -  
She went and let my beetle out -  
And Beetle ran away.

She said she didn't mean it, and I never said she did,  
She said she wanted matches and she just took off the lid,  
She said that she was sorry, but it's difficult to catch  
An excited sort of beetle you've mistaken for a match.

She said that she was sorry, and I really mustn't mind,  
As there's lots and lots of beetles which she's certain we could find,  
If we looked about the garden for the holes where beetles hid -  
And we'd get another match-box and write BEETLE on the lid.

We went to all the places which a beetle might be near,  
And we made the sort of noises which a beetle likes to hear,  
And I saw a kind of something, and I gave a sort of shout:  
"A beetle-house and Alexander Beetle coming out!"

It was Alexander Beetle I'm as certain as can be,  
And he had a sort of look as if he thought it must be Me,  
And he had a sort of look as if he thought he ought to say:  
"I'm very very sorry that I tried to run away."

And Nanny's very sorry too for you-know-what-she-did,  
And she's writing ALEXANDER very blackly on the lid,  
So Nan and Me are friends, because it's difficult to catch  
An excited Alexander you've mistaken for a match.


	25. Chapter 25

I thought I should update this story, I got sidelined with others that came into my head - enjoy.

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Jean stood in the doorway to the garage and sighed. There was electricity, a single, naked bulb hung in the centre of the ceiling shining it's harsh light on the dust, the bits of wood, things kept 'just in case'; which never happened; a box of tools that Lucien would have no idea what to do with and a chair with three legs.

"Well," she hummed to herself, "all this can go."

She wondered if the water pipe to the outside tap could be used to provide plumbing for a loo, and a sink. A little kitchen area would be useful, across the back of the room, with a hob to boil a kettle, cupboards for the cups and saucers, plates and biscuit and cake tins. Or perhaps, if they put in more plug sockets, they wouldn't need a hob, they could use an urn, a water boiler, it could be used to fill the sink as well, if they just had a cold tap.

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Lucien surveyed the empty garage, it looked bigger than he remembered it. Jean had had it cleared all the better to see what they could do with the space. A builder had agreed that more plug sockets and taps and boilers could be fitted. It would be a lot of work but worth it in the end, he had smiled.

"Don't worry, Mrs Blake," he had pushed his pencil behind his ear, "it will work and, I can offer a discount, your husband has been very kind to my wife."

"I don't expect discount for that, Mr Castle," she gasped, "a fair days pay ..."

"I know you don't that's why you will get it," he stepped to the side as Amelia came out of the house.

"Gran'ma," she tugged the hem of Jean's skirt, "James is awake."

"Alright, sweetie," she stroked the child's head, "I'll come in, he's probably ready for another bottle."

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As she fed James she discussed the ultimate goal with Mr Castle.

"It's just that we need a space to hold the mother and baby group that's not in the house," she sighed, "it seems to have gone from strength to strength."

"Some of my other clients have mentioned it," he nodded, "we hope to be able to make use of it, soon."

"I'm so glad," she put James to her shoulder, "if anyone deserves to be a mother she does."

Anne Castle had struggled to go to term with a pregnancy, it was Lucien who had set in place a way for her to keep the baby she carried until it was strong enough to survive outside of the womb. She was now in her seventh month and, although staying in bed, with the foot end raised was trying, she and her husband took every day as it came, and looked forward to the day they would hold their child in their arms.

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Jean did a preliminary sketch of what she thought the garage should look like when it was done. Mattie had some ideas, about what they should keep in there, toys, of course, books, maybe a radio.

"As I do some consultations during the group sessions perhaps I could have a corner, a screen, scales ..." she tipped her head and waited for Jean to comment, "maybe I could move the baby clinic in there, free up the study."

"I suppose so," Jean paused in her preparation of the potatoes, "it would mean it got more use than just once a week, and your mothers could sit in comfort and their other children could play without getting under the feet of Lucien's patients."

"Worth having it done then," Mattie lifted Julia onto her lap.

"Quite, in fact," Jean had had another thought, "it's big enough to have one end sectioned off properly, just for you. Then your consultations would be a bit more private."

"Hang on, Jean," she gasped, "that means more expense."

"We'll see."

Mattie knew better than to argue with Jean, especially after a 'we'll see'.

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Ted was fascinated with the goings on in the garage. He would drop his school bag in the hall and go and see how far things had got while he was in school each day. Jean had told him to stay out of the way of the workmen, she didn't want him hurt but Len Castle would take him aside each day, as his team headed home and explain what they had done that day and what they planned to do the following day. He showed him the joints in the pipe-work, how a socket was wired in and how he was going to make a room for Nurse Mattie.

"Where will the toys be stored, Mr Castle?" he asked, "will we still have the basket?"

"Well, lad," he put his hand on Ted's shoulder, "that's up to your mum, but we are putting some cupboards in, so maybe they will go in there."

"Oh, right," Ted nodded, this was a good idea, he thought.

Jean smiled, Len was going to make a wonderful father, she knew, and, boy or girl, he would let it look and 'help' just as he did with Ted.

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All that was left was the painting and decorating, then the garage would be an extension to Dr Blake's consulting rooms. This was going to be a joint effort. Lucien, Matthew, Arthur and Michael were going to paint, Jean, Mattie and Alice were going to babysit and make large quantities of tea or coffee.

"Can I paint too, dad?" Ted asked at breakfast that morning, "please, I want to help."

Lucien looked at Jean for help, the thought of having a seven year old wielding a paintbrush loaded with pale blue emulsion scared him. Jean thought emulsion would be better than gloss, easier to get out of his hair, she grinned.

"I er," his father scratched his head, Jean just rolled her eyes, "I suppose so, you'll get very messy."

Jean thought of the two, Lucien would get messier.

Jean was right. Ted had a good sized paintbrush and he painted slowly but carefully the lower part of the wall in Mattie's new office, in fact he stayed remarkable clean. He had been given his own tray of paint so he wouldn't be trailing drops of paint over the floor which had been laid with wood, sanded and varnished. Rugs were stored in the house for the sitting area and the op shop was holding chairs and a couch for seating.

Jean stood in the door holding a tray of cups and smirked. Ted was telling his father off for splashing paint over Matthew.

"Aunty Alice has to clean that, you know," he huffed, "you're supposed the paint the walls, dad, that's what mum said."

"Don't worry, Ted," Matthew laughed, "this is an old shirt, it can be thrown away when we've done here."

"Don't you have to paint the baby's room," Jean reminded him, "in the new house."

"Huh, oh yes," he blushed, "we wondered if you lot would return the favour?"

"Capital idea," Lucien clapped him on the back with a loaded brush.

"Dad!"

"Oops, sorry mate," he apologised to his friend.

He and Alice had come to the conclusion that raising a baby in a one bedroom bungalow was not going to be easy or practical and had bought another nearer to the Blake's. Alice assured Jean it was not for babysitting purposes.

"It's just that it's the right size, three bedrooms ..."

"Planning on more, Alice?" Jean teased.

" ... no!" her eyebrows shot up into her hairline, "then we didn't plan this one," she shrugged, "this was in our price range and the only thing that needs doing is the baby's room, the other can be a guest room."

"Have you sold the other one?"

"Yes," she nodded, "a teacher, from St Patrick's apparently."

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"Gran'ma," Amelia leant her elbows on the coffee table as Jean gave James a bottle, she was going to start weaning him, he was ready for it, "can me an' Julia see the garage, what gran'pa's done, an' Ted?"

"Yes, of course sweetheart," Jean smiled, "why don't you ask Nurse Mattie or Aunty Alice to show you. Stay out of grandpa's way, in case he splashes you with paint, though."

"Ok," she ran off to find someone brave enough to go near Lucien with a paintbrush. As luck would have it, it was Alice who was not currently engaged in a particular chore and she took the girls by the hand to see what was happening.

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It was all looking quite fresh and bright, Alice thought. Michael had taken time to paint on the door to Mattie's room, 'Nurse O'Brien, Ante natal and baby clinic'. The lettering was beautifully arranged, with her name on the top line and underneath it all a picture of a baby on a balance scale. He was quite the artist, she thought and wondered if he would take a commission for her, when they knew what they were having. He finished the last highlight on the scales and stood back to survey his handiwork.

"Very nice, Michael," she called across, "Mattie will be very pleased."

"She just asked me to paint the words but I thought ..." he blushed, "d'ye think she'll mind?" he whispered.

"Not in the least," Alice smiled, "I think she'll be rather touched. And, I've just had a thought, do you take commissions?"

"I've never done it before, why?"

"Well, I thought it would be nice to have something on the wall, for our little one, when he, or she, comes along," she tried to gauge his feelings on this, "I've seen transfers but ... they are all very much in the order of teddies or trains."

"What were you thinking of?"

"Not sure, yet," she admitted, "can I let you know, or if you come up with an original idea ..."

"Well, alright," he hummed, "what is the background colour?"

"Pale yellow, almost cream," she told him, "neutral."

"Right," he cleared his throat, "well, got to do the toy cupboards, Ted wants trains and cars on one, Amelia," he looked down at the two little girls standing watching the others paint, "Julia, what would you like me to paint on the cupboards?"

"Dollies," Amelia smiled, "pretty dollies."

"Then I shall have to make them like you," he smiled, "Julia, do want something painted on the toy cupboard door."

At two years old Julia was not sure what he was asking. He squatted down in front of her, "I'm going to paint pictures on that cupboard, there, where the toys will be, what do you think I should do ... teddies, bunnies?"

She nodded enthusiastically and Michael realised he had just made himself more work. So much more work that dinner was ready before he finished, and he said he would pop back the following day to add any little touches.

"Michael," Mattie went to tell him dinner was ready and Lucien and Matthew were cleaned of all the paint they were wearing, "Jean says dinner's ready. Oh!" She looked across at her door, "oh, goodness, Michael, that's lovely. Thank you. All I wanted was my name and the clinic, that's a gorgeous little touch."

He shrugged and blushed, he really was taken with the young nurse.

"I see you have done the toy cupboards as well," she turned, "Ted didn't want much, did he?"

"Or the girls," he pointed with his brush, "just got to do a few details tomorrow."

"Be careful, you'll find yourself with commissions," she teased.

"Yeah, well," he coughed, "Dr Lawson has asked me to do something for the baby's room, at their new house."

"Oh, starting high then," she laughed, "come on, you've earned dinner."

It did not go unnoticed, by Jean, that the young couple entered the kitchen arm in arm, laughing at something.

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"Are you going to have a grand opening, love?" Lucien nibbled her ear as they lay in bed, "cut the ribbon, speeches?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Lucien," she giggled, "it's only the garage."

"What about a piece in the Courier?" his hand snaked under her nightdress.

She squeaked as his fingers found her nipple and tweaked it, "No!"

He stopped.

"No to the Courier," she raised an eyebrow, "but ..."

He took that as permission to continue his exploration of the now familiar, but still entrancing, landscape of her body. All thoughts of the garage and opening ceremonies and ribbons were forgotten as Lucien relieved her of the hindrance that was her nightdress, and proceeded to make love to her, with his usual, but completely satisfying, thoroughness.

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Alice groaned and opened an eye. Baby Lawson was playing football with her bladder, again. Turning to look at the bedside clock; four o'clock; she heaved herself out of bed and headed to the bathroom for the third time that night. Lucien was right, stopping work was a good idea, she got so little sleep she didn't think she would be able to focus through the microscope or wield a scalpel safely.

Matthew watched her through one eye and sighed. For the most part she seemed to take everything in her stride, but he still worried about her, especially while he was at work. He was glad they were close enough for her to walk round to Jean and the little ones, though it was the one thing they had really argued about. He wanted to drive her round there, she insisted on walking, the exercise would do her good.

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"I'll just gain far too much weight," she faced him in the kitchen, "which is not good for me or the baby."

"But what if something happens?" he stood his ground.

"Like what?" she folded her arms.

"What if you started off?"

"Between here and Jean's is not far enough for me to drop it on the roadside," she huffed, "please Matthew, I know what I'm doing."

"You have never done this before, I have!" he snapped.

"I'm a doctor!" she threw back.

"You don't do babies, you do dead people!" he shot back.

"You're suffocating me!" she pushed passed him and stormed out of the house, angry at him and herself. It was true it was uncharted territory, for her, but she was coping, to a point. It was only when he started getting over protective, which she had at first found endearing, then frustrating and now downright suffocating, that she struggled. She understood he still hurt over Peg, but she wasn't Peg, she was Alice. Her doctor had assured both of them she was fit and healthy and he didn't think she would have any trouble when she had the baby.

She had stomped round to Jean who seemed to be the only one who really understood. Jean had had two boys, worked on a farm before and after and seemed to have come out of it alright.

Jean had made tea, passed James over to her and listened. She had made no judgment on Matthew's behaviour beyond saying she would have a word with Lucien, to have a word with him.

Cradling James or reading to the girls was soothing, calmed her and she found herself there more than she was at home, even when Matthew had a day off.

Lucien had used one of these days to speak to his friend.

"Give her some space, Matthew," he sat him down with a whisky. "You're putting her blood pressure up. Alice is strong and healthy and has never had any issues in that area."

"But, Peg ..." Matthew stared into his glass.

"That was then," Lucien soothed him, "we have made some advances since then."

"Would you know if she had heart problems?"

"Yes, but she hasn't. She hasn't fainted, or had blackouts," he leant on the desk, "if it wasn't for the bump nobody would know she was pregnant. Now, you are spoiling it for her, and for yourself, these are the last few weeks that you will just be a couple. Soon there will be someone else who needs you, who will rely on you for everything. Take Alice out for the evening, to the theatre, for a meal; other than here; a walk round the lake, make her feel special not a burden. She loves you Matthew, she must do to put up with your grumpiness and the way you are wrapping her in cotton wool, but she will walk, if you're not careful."

Lucien wasn't sure that Alice would leave him, but if it stopped him cosseting a remarkable woman then he would put that thought in his mind. It would kill Matthew to lose Alice either by her going or dying but at the rate he was going, Lucien wouldn't blame her.

And so Matthew had done his best to take a step back. The sight of her hospital bag, in the corner of the bedroom, was enough to remind him of Lucien's words so he had taken her to the theatre, she had, after all, mentioned that Oscar Wilde was one of her favourite playwrights and 'Lady Windermere's Fan' was being performed in Melbourne. They had taken the weekend, booked into a hotel and relaxed, as much as Matthew could, but Alice had. She had enjoyed the play, refused to let her aching feet bother her, he could massage them later, and they had had a pleasant light supper afterwards.

"See," Lucien had remarked the following week in the office, "nothing to worry about."

"Hmm..." Matthew grunted and glared.

Lucien laughed and shook his head, he'd never change.

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Alice knew she should tell him, but she was going to be hours yet. She waved him off to work and tidied up the kitchen before lifting the bag from the bedroom floor and heading down to the Blake's.

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"Alice?" Jean eyed the bag.

"Matthew doesn't know," she gasped, "I don't want him hovering and worrying until it's absolutely necessary." She stepped inside and Jean took the bag off her and put it by the coat stand.

"Lucien is in his room," she smiled, "no patients, go and see him."

"Thank you," she headed down the corridor, stopping to speak to Amelia and Julia and admire Amelia's picture.

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Lucien looked up and smiled, "to what do I owe this ..." he stopped as she gasped and rubbed her belly, "ah, I see." He stood up and guided her to the couch.

"Let's have a look and see how things are going, shall we?"

Alice raised an eyebrow at his slightly patronising tone and heaved herself up.

After a thorough, but gentle, examination Lucien told he she was some way off so there was no rush to get her down to the hospital.

"Thank you," she redressed and went to sit in the chair, "do you think Amelia will be alright if I stay here?"

"She can't avoid pregnant women all the time," he smiled understanding she wanted to protect the child from the memories, "she seems to have coped so far."

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Jean kept an eye on the clock, subtly timing Alice's contractions, and kept the girls occupied with toys and outdoor play. When it came time to collect Ted from school she took the children with her, putting James in the pram and telling Lucien that Alice's contractions appeared to be really setting in and were about five to seven minutes apart.

"I'll see how far off she is," he kissed her cheek, "if we're not here when you get back I've taken her down."

"Right, she seems to have managed through the day," Jean smiled, "her bag is by the coats."

"Right oh," he grinned.

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"Are you sure?" Alice stood by the car door, gripping it as a wave of pain hit her.

"I am," he tossed her bag on the back seat of the Holden, "you will have to defer to me in this, for a change," he winked. She smiled back and nodded.

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Danny answered the phone in the station office and nodded then smiled, "ok."

"Boss," he turned to Matthew, "doc says I've to drive you over to the hospital."

"What!" he leapt up and grabbed his stick, "come on then, what're you waiting for."

"He said there was no rush," Danny fastened his jacket, "plenty of time yet. Just thought you should know," he continued as Matthew stumped out of the room, grumbling about bloody independent women, "before he got too busy and forgot to ring you."

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"No!" Sister put a hand on his chest, "you are not going in, Superintendant."

"That's my wife!"

"I am quite aware of that," she hissed, "could you keep your voice down, please. Now, take a seat and wait, she is in very good hands." She huffed and strode away.

Danny brought him tea, but it remained un-drunk, he paced up and down the corridor, stopping outside her room and trying to look in, but they had put something over the window to stop him. He started every time he heard her shout and glared every time Danny suggest he sit down.

The door opened, Lucien appeared a small bundle in his arms and a huge grin on his face.

"Congratulations, Superintendant," he held out the bundle, "a boy."

"Alice?" he gulped taking the child in his arms.

"Absolutely fine," Lucien assured him, leading him to a chair, "the nurses are just making her comfortable then you can go in."

Matthew looked down at his son and noted the shock of dark hair standing up on his head.

"Hello, son," he whispered.

"Does he have a name?" Lucien sat next to him.

"Er... we're still thinking," he couldn't take his eyes of this thing he and Alice had created, "though she's probably decided."

"Doctor, Superintendant," a nurse poked her head out of the room, "Mrs Lawson is ready to see you now."

" _Mrs_ Lawson?!" Matthew raised his eyebrows, "don't let her hear you call her that."

"Oh, but ... gosh, I'm sorry," she blushed, surely, she wore a wedding ring ... was it for show.

"It's Dr Lawson," Lucien smiled and patted her arm.

She relaxed immediately, "oh, right, well," she pulled herself upright, "you can go in."

"Thank you, nurse," Lucien stood back to let Matthew go in and assure himself that his wife was perfectly well though he was convinced Matthew had no idea it was three o'clock in the morning, just gone.

Alice looked across and smiled. Matthew looked more exhausted than she felt, in fact she felt strangely exhilarated, to have achieved this - but she wasn't doing it again! At her age, once was quite enough. She held out her arms for her son and Matthew made it across the room in double quick time.

"Alice, he's amazing," he breathed, "are you alright?"

"Fine, thank you, darling," she cradled the baby, "ugly, isn't he?"

"Alice!" Matthew gasped, "he's our son, he's the most beautiful baby in Australia!"

She burst out laughing, which disturbed the little miracle and he turned instinctively to her breast.

"Just like your father," she huffed, and cleared his way to his first meal.

"So, Alice," Lucien picked up the chart, Matthew glared at him, he should leave the room when Alice was in such a state of undress, "Matthew says you haven't settled on a name for him, yet." He ignored the glare.

"Robert Thomas Lucien Lawson," she whispered, stroking the surprisingly thick hair, no wonder she'd had indigestion, well that was what they said.

"Oh," Lucien hummed.

"Told you she'd have decided," Mathew grunted.

"We both like Robert, Matthew kept going on about your father, how he was easier to work with, and I wanted Lucien, to sort of say thank you," Alice blushed.

"I'm truly touched, Alice," Lucien smiled, genuinely honoured, "now, when he's had his fill, nurse will take him to the nursery and I am going to take your husband home for a nap."

"I'm staying right here," Matthew harrumphed.

"Not at three in the morning, you're not," Lucien yawned back.

"What, really?"

"Really."

"Lucien," Alice looked up, "do you think you could persuade the midwife to let me have a crib here for him, I'd like to keep him by me," somehow she didn't wanted to be parted from him, for a second.

"You won't get much sleep," he sat on the edge of the bed.

"They'll only wake me when he's ready for his next feed, I'd like him to wake me," she blushed, not normally given to sentimentality.

"I'll give it a go," he shrugged, "wondering if he was that persuasive, but he thought he understood.

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"I think it would be better for Dr Lawson," Lucien stood in front of the Sister in Charge of the nursery, "I know her well, she is a colleague, she isn't given to sentimentality. I would hate for her to become upset, distressed at being separated from her baby." He knew he was laying it on a bit thick, but not even Alice Lawson nee Harvey was immune to the baby blues.

"We will take him up for his feeds," she huffed, she didn't like men telling her what to do, even if they were doctors.

"Well, this will save you the bother," he smiled, "you have quite a crowd in here." He waved his hand at the sea of babies in cribs, lined up like books on a bookshelf. Maybe Alice had something, this seemed rather impersonal, babies need their mothers, he thought, not just a plastic box to sleep in, wrapped in a blue or pink blanket depending on gender.

He watched her think it over, they were busy, it was true, but for a baby to stay by its mother's side, she supposed it would happen if it had been a home birth.

"Alright, Dr Blake," she finally huffed, "but you can take the crib and spare nappies."

"Thank you, Sister," he reached out and shook her hand, "I'm sure Dr Lawson will be most grateful."

"Hmm ..." she grunted.

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Alice had just finished feeding Robert, Bobby to his parents, when Lucien knocked on the door. She looked up and called him in and gasped.

"What did you say?"

"Well, they're rather busy down there," he pushed the crib to her bedside, "I said it would save them the bother of bringing him up to you."

"I was going to suggest I just go home," she passed Bobby to his father who lay him down in the crib before he dropped him in surprise.

"Oh no you don't" Lucien laughed, "you are staying in for a week, it's the rules, _Mrs_ Lawson," he teased, "ones you are not going to sidestep. Do you want to give Matthew a heart attack?!"

She smirked but nodded her agreement, "a week, not a moment longer, I hate hospitals."

"You're a doctor," he reminded her.

"Precisely, I know what goes on here."

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There was much excitement in the Blake household. When the children woke up later that morning they were all told that Aunty Alice had had a baby boy and that they were both well. Ted wanted to go and see her, but, as his mother reminded him, he had to go to school.

"Anyway, darling," she combed his hair, "I'm afraid children aren't allowed to visit people in hospital."

"That's not fair," he sniffed, "what if Aunty Alice wants visitors."

"Uncle Matthew is going to go in, and when she goes home, I'm sure you will be allowed to visit," she smiled, nothing was going to stop Ted checking that Aunty Alice was ok.

"I'd better let Michael know," Mattie sipped her tea, "he's supposed to be painting on the wall in the baby's bedroom. Perhaps, if Matthew will let him, he should do it before Alice brings ...?"

"Robert ..." Jean pushed a plate of bacon and eggs towards her, "Bobby, I believe he will be known as."

"...Bobby home," she finished.

"Oh, well, yes," Jean mused, "I suppose it would be nice for it to be done when she gets out of hospital."

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Matthew had agreed to give Michael the key, and agreed to let him have free reign on what he painted.

"Though," he stuffed his hands in his pockets, "you are an art historian, lad, why are you painting pictures on children's walls?"

"Well," Michael thought about this. True his love of art, all art, had set him on a path to learn all he could about the history of art, try to prove he was worthy of working for the MFAA but he rather liked giving pleasure with his little paintings, the ones on the toy cupboards, the little sketch on Mattie's door, "Mattie's office door was the start of it, and it's not too difficult, though if I went into it as a fully commercial enterprise there would be things like copyright to deal with." He passed Matthew a sketch, "things like this, painted for a fee, well ..."

"But we are going to pay you," Matthew blustered, worried he was part of a case of fraud.

"Don't worry, it's a private arrangement," Michael smiled, "do you think it's ok?"

"She'll love it," and for once Matthew was sure he was right.

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Alice had never been so glad to leave a hospital as she was the day Lucien finally allowed her home, with Bobby. She had had plenty of visitors, her sister had come over to see her, struck at how natural Alice looked nursing her baby.

Jean managed to sneak away from the house, leaving her girls and James with Mattie one afternoon, and then later in the week when Lucien took the afternoon to play with the children.

Matthew took Bobby off her as she got out of the car and looked at the front of the house, their house. It was clean, the garden was weed free and the grass had been cut, the tubs either side of the door were tidy and the door furniture was shining. She was sure Jean had a hand in all of that.

She took her baby back into her arms and let Matthew lift her case and unlock the door.

The hall had a fresh bouquet of flowers in a vase by the phone, there was a pile of letters and cards for her to look at when she had settled Bobby in his pram and in the kitchen a tray was set for tea.

"I don't suppose Michael got round to painting the bedroom?" Alice smiled at the flowers, the little touches that welcomed her home.

"He did," Matthew indicated she precede him to Bobby's room.

The door was closed, with 'Bobby' painted on the strip between the panels. Very simple and understated, which she thought was just right.

Matthew pushed to door open and stood back, ready to catch the baby.

She gasped, and bit her lip against unbidden tears - Lucien said it was her hormones.

"Oh my ..." she breathed, "it's perfect."

In the corner Michael had painted a tree, underneath which was a log. Seated on the log was Piglet, and next to him was a question: 'How do you spell love?" Facing him was the Bear of Very Little Brain, and under him was the answer: 'You don't spell it, you feel it.'


	26. Chapter 26

"You may go at the weekend," Jean sighed as Ted asked, yet again, when he could go and see Auntie Alice, now she was out of hospital with Bobby. "Auntie Alice needs some time to get used to having a baby around, and looking after it. You know James, when he came home, he needed a lot of attention."

"Alright," he sighed, "she is ok, though, isn't she?"

"She's absolutely fine," Jean assured him, "and she has Uncle Matthew to help her."

"But what about when he goes back to work," Ted tipped his head, "will she be alright on her own?"

Jean too had wondered, if being on her own with a baby whose conversation revolved around either crying or sleeping, at the moment, would drive the new mother mad. Alice was used to having interesting conversations with people who asked sensible questions; most of the time; and Jean had offered a place at the Blake house if she ever felt the need to socialise.

Alice had said it was very kind of her; understanding Jean was not doubting her ability to care for her baby; and she may pop round, occasionally, on group days ... maybe. Jean had left it at that, sure that Alice would call for help, or just company, if she needed it.

"I'm sure she'll be just fine, but she may pop round, from time to time, for a cuppa."

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"Did Jean say she was bringing the whole tribe round?" Matthew sat watching her feed Bobby, still amazed how natural she looked and how well she seemed to have taken to motherhood.

"That's why she is coming before you head back to work," Alice smiled and stroked her son's cheek, "Julia has been asking for you and Ted has nagged her to come over and see Bobby."

"Won't it be a bit much for you?"

She raised an eyebrow and stared at him.

"Of course, silly of me to think that," he smirked, "however ..."

"Jean is unlikely to want to be waited on, any anyway, you are perfectly capable of making a cuppa, rather good in fact," she hinted.

"Want one?"

"Please."

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Neither Jean nor Lucien could work out why Ted was so keen to go and visit Alice and baby Bobby.

"I think it is just because he feels he needs to see her to be sure she is alright," Lucien sighed, "he is protective, of everyone, remember. When he first met us he needed to know if I would hit you, when I was drunk, and when Mary attacked Alice in the street ..."

"I expect you're right," she hummed and snuggled closer, "it's a good job he never sees the marks you leave on me ..." she winked.

"Are you running out of proof I love you," he traced his finger down between her breasts.

"Never, dearest doctor," she whispered, "but if you want to brand me, again ..."

'Brand' was an unusual way to describe the love bites he left on her body, but if that was what Jean wanted, that was what she would get.

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It was a rather impressive 'brand' she thought as she took her morning bath. Just over her left breast, but low enough to be hidden by her blouse, it was the largest he had bestowed on her the previous night, there were a few others ... that would teach her, she thought. She dried and dressed, brushed her hair, noting it was in need of a trim, and applied her light makeup then took James off Lucien. He had suggested he feed him while she bathed and she loved the way he took his part in the baby's care. He had changed so much since they had first met, no longer the impetuous drunk, irritating all he came across, interfering in police cases; now he was the caring country doctor, with a family who he loved with every fibre of his being, though he still did 'interfere' in police cases. Calmer, patient with the children but still driven to find justice. Jean thought she loved him more now than she did when she married him, and she didn't think that was possible.

"Are you coming with us, to see Alice?" she asked, undressing James ready for his morning wash.

"Time I did a quick check up on her, I think," he rolled out of bed and pulled on his robe, "the last one was the day she came out of hospital."

"The district nurse will have been round though," she took James into the bathroom, "though I bet she found that a bit intimidating, the nurse that is."

"Reports are," he followed her, "Mrs Lawson and baby Bobby are doing well, he is feeding and has gained weight in line with expectations."

"He wouldn't dare do anything else," Jean laughed.

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It wasn't a long walk to the Lawson's house but they still took the stroller as well as the pram. Ideally the stroller was for Julia but she was her usual stubborn self and insisted on walking, Amelia took advantage of the vacancy and allowed Granddad to push her. Jean said it didn't matter, she could always sit Julia on the end of the pram should she need a ride, "or on the shopping tray underneath."

"Really?" Lucien raised his eyebrows.

"Oh yes, especially if I have both girls and James, I can't take the stroller _and_ pram when I am on my own."

"S'pose not," he hummed. "It will be easier when Amelia starts school won't it? Just the pram, and she and Ted can walk."

"I may have to use the car a bit more, in the beginning," she manoeuvred the pram round a large stone, "and I am going to have to get another baby seat, for James."

"Right, we'll have a look, shall we?"

Mattie had offered to do school runs when she was free, but Jean felt she couldn't rely on the nurse's kindness all the time and she should be prepared for all eventualities.

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Alice was changing Bobby when the visitors arrived. He had just been fed and would probably sleep for the next two to three hours, though being passed around may wake him. Lucien shook Matthew's hand as he let them in.

"Alright, old friend?" he grinned.

"Yeah," Mathew nodded, "very much so. Alice'll be down in a few minutes."

"How is she doing?" Jean lifted James out of the pram and smiled as Ted lifted the basket with his bottles in, "coping?"

"A natural," he beamed, "honestly, Jean I would never have believed it, if you had told me two years ago we would marry, never mind become parents."

"Funny old world," Lucien mumbled.

"That's the truth," Matthew grinned, "come on in, I'll put the kettle on."

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In the bedroom Alice checked her reflection in the mirror. Hair neatly brushed, make-up applied. A good start, she thought. She checked her blouse for any signs of Bobby's approval of his feed and decided she was perfectly presentable. The baby was settled in her arms, blissfully unaware he was about to be shown off, to meet his extended family.

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Jean looked up when she heard Alice's tread on the stairs. She smiled and the smile was returned. Alice still had some of her pregnancy weight but most of that was hidden by the loose fitting blouse over her skirt, and she looked radiant.

"Sorry we're a bit late," she laughed, "Bobby has a good appetite."

"Glad to hear it," Lucien stood up, "you look very well, Alice, motherhood suits you."

"Thank you, Lucien," she sat next to Jean and looked at Ted's eager face, "would you like to hold him, Ted?"

"Can I?" his eyes wide with wonder.

"Settle yourself back into the couch and let's get you both comfortable."

Ted hardly dare breathe as the tiny bundle was placed in his arms and Bobby's bottom was rested on his thigh, to take some of the weight off his arms.

As soon as Alice's arms were clear Amelia went over and started to climb onto her lap.

"Alright, miss," Alice laughed, "miss me?"

Amelia nodded and snuggled into her. Alice smelled different to what she remembered, now she smelled a bit like James, after his bath, and how Mama smelled. She remembered her smelling of perfume and antiseptic.

Seeing as how Amelia was settled with Auntie Alice and Ted had the baby, Mama had James, Julia tugged Matthew's trouser leg.

"Hello, gorgeous," he smiled and swung her up, "how are you?"

Julia cuddled into his neck and sighed. "'lo Uncle Maffoo," she murmured.

"Someone's tired," he smiled, "long walk?"

"Just from ours," Jean shrugged, "but she wouldn't use the stroller."

"Not changed then?"

"Not a bit," Jean agreed, "now, seeing as all are occupied, Lucien, either you make the tea or I do, and you can have James."

"I'll do it, love," her husband headed towards the kitchen, "it's one thing you allow me to do in the kitchen."

"Not even you can mess up tea, dear," she teased.

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They spent a happy couple of hours or so with the Lawson family. Bobby behaved beautifully even when he was passed from Ted to Jean, and then to Amelia.

"I never realised families were like this," Alice hummed, "I have never felt so safe and happy."

"That's good to hear," Matthew leaned over the back of the couch to kiss his wife, "got something right, then, did I?"

"Don't be silly, Matthew," Alice looked up at him, "you get many things right."

"Well," Lucien stood up, "before we go and leave you in peace, may I give you a quick check up, Alice, or would you prefer to be booked into the surgery?"

"I'll pop down to the surgery, if it's alright with you, doctor," she emphasised his title, "Matthew goes back to work this week so he won't be able to fuss."

"I do not fuss!"

"Yes you do, dear," she laughed, "but it's quite delightful fussing."

Matthew harrumphed.

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Julia agreed to be settled in the stroller on the way back so Amelia skipped happily beside papa.

"Alright, Ted?" Jean looked down on her boy, "now you've seen them."

"Yes, thank you, mum," he looked up and smiled his sunny smile, "Bobby's so small."

"He'll grow," Lucien laughed, "just like you and Julia have. and Amelia, and James too."

"I guess so," Ted hummed, "hey, mum, what's that man doing at our gate?"

Ted was right, a tall dark man was leaning against the pillar with his hands in his pockets. He was whistling tunelessly and staring into space. As he heard the sound of voices, mainly Amelia asking if she could have cake after lunch, his whistling tailed off. Jean stopped mid stride and Lucien gasped, "Jack?"

Jack pushed himself off the stonework and waited for them to come to him. He wasn't sure how he should approach Blake, but Chris had said their mother was very happy and Blake was a good husband and father. So, knowing Blake was a good doctor he had done his best to put his previous feelings of resentment and gone to ask for advice.

Lucien hoped that Jack was ready to mend his relationship with his mother and greeted him heartily and warmly, inviting him to the house where he could be introduced to the family.

Jean touched his arm, "hello, Jack," she smiled softly, "it's lovely to see you."

"Hi mum," he bent and kissed her cheek, "ok?"

"Yes, love, very much so."

She didn't really care much why he was there, just that he was and he looked healthy and prosperous, dressed in smart shirt and trousers, tie slightly loose at the neck and his jacket slung over his shoulder. Christopher had said he was well and working hard but not at what. Perhaps she would find out, if not, her son, Ted, would wheedle it out of him.

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Jack noticed the house hadn't changed much. There were children's coats on the hooks, as well as his mother's and the doctor's, a cricket bat and ball were propped up to one side and in the kitchen a high chair stood in the corner by the fridge. Aside from that the house looked much the same.

The children were strangely silent. Ted eyed him up and down and waited. He'd heard there was another son that mum had, from long ago, was this him? Amelia was always shy around strangers and stood close to Jean, Julia toddled through into the living room to find her favourite rag book - here was another person to read to her.

"Pop James in his cot, please, Lucien," Jean smiled, "he can finish his nap there."

Jack watched him take the baby from his mother and gently cradle him as he headed towards the studio bedroom.

"Tea, Jack?" Jean broke through his thoughts.

"Er, yeah, thanks," he nodded and followed her and Amelia into the kitchen. Ted followed him.

"Full house, eh?" he nodded to the children.

"These days, yes," she smiled, "cups are up there," she nodded to the cupboard. "Let me introduce you, this is Amelia, your niece, Julia is the one with the book, which she expects you to read to her, and the one behind you is Ted. Ted and Julia are mine and Lucien's, by adoption." She wasn't sure how much Christopher had told him. "Children this is Jack, he is Christopher's brother and my other son."

Apparently Christopher had told him quite a lot because when Ted stood square in front of him and asked if he was going to be nice to Jean he smiled.

"She's my mum, too, Ted," he squatted down, "I made some bad choices when I was younger, and I wasn't nice to her, but I am going to be now."

Ted chewed at his lip and decided that he'd give him the benefit of the doubt - for now.

Julia tapped his knee, "book," she waved the rag book at him and tried to get on his knee. He was so surprised he over-balanced and landed on his rear. Amelia giggled but Jean just roared with laughter. Her son was probably nearly six feet tall and he was felled by a small, auburn-haired person, barely two and a half feet tall.

"Let Jack sit down first, Julia," Ted muttered, "you don't do that to Uncle Matthew ..."

"Uncle Matthew?" Jack took the opportunity to stand up and find a chair at the table, Julia wandered off having decided that Jack wasn't going to read to her.

"Matthew Lawson," Jean set the tea on the table, "she calls him Uncle Maffoo."

Jack raised his eyebrows, he remember Lawson as a stern police officer and couldn't imagine him accepting being called 'Uncle Maffoo'.

Jean smiled, "things have changed round here, Jack," she lifted Amelia onto her knee, "I'm sure Christopher told you some of it."

"He told me you had adopted Ted and Julia and were guardians to his two, but nothing about Lawson."

"Matthew is a family friend, Jack, whatever your feelings about him or your memories," Jean pursed her lips, "he is good with our children and has a son of his own now, Bobby is two weeks old."

Jack sat back in his seat and whistled, who would have thought it?

"Well, I have to get lunch, you are staying, aren't you?"

"While I don't want to put you out mum, I have come here to speak to the doc," he started to take his cup to the sink, "I know," he held his hand up, "I've been an idiot, was stupid over the Dennison case, and I should have contacted you, but I didn't and I'm sorry. I'm glad things are working out for you, you look happier than I remember you ever looking, even when Dad was alive."

"Times were much harder then, Jack, Lucien and I, we are certainly better able to give the children more, but it doesn't mean I didn't love you and Christopher any less."

"I know mum, I know," he squeezed her elbow, "now, about lunch - what can I do to help."

Lucien had decided to let Jack and his mother talk things through before leaping to her defence, especially if she didn't need defending, and it seemed she didn't. When he heard the pots being washed he decided it was time to head into the kitchen and see if he was needed to do anything.

"Alright, Jean?" he had Julia on his hip, which Jack found faintly amusing, "anything I can do?"

"Slice the ham please, love," she laughed, "Julia get down off papa, or he can't help with lunch. Ted!" she called through to the living room, "will you set the table please, set an extra place for Jack."

"Ok mum," Ted got up from playing with his train set and went to join his mother in the kitchen.

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Over lunch they talked about Alice and Matthew, how things were so different in their small corner of Ballarat. Ted's prowess on the soccer field and he witnessed Julia's tendency to get her dinner in her hair - still! James woke for a bottle half way through and Jean took him into the kitchen to be fed. Jack watched her sway from side to side while she waited for the milk to warm, stroking his cheek and singing softly to him. She looked so serene.

"So Jack," Lucien sat back in his seat with Amelia on his knee, "what brings you here?"

"OK, it's true I do have an ulterior motive, but," he leant forward on the table, "I need your help, doc. My wife ..." he looked around the table, "tell you more later, my wife collapsed two weeks ago and has been unconscious ever since. Our local hospital has been unable to find a reason but, to be honest, I don't trust them, they didn't seem to want to do anything. Her name is Anoushka, Noush to me. I flew her from Albury, the road trip would have been too much - doc," his eyes filled with tears, "doc, she ..."

Lucien stood up and went to put his hand on his shoulder, "it's ok, son, we understand. You'll stay with us while I see what we can do for her. I take it you've taken her to Ballarat General?"

"Yeah, this morning," Jack sniffed and brushed away the tears that threatened to fall, "they've made her comfortable."

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A nurse sat next to Anoushka's bed. Lucien lifted her notes from the tray and scanned them. Jack went to his wife's side and lifted her hand to his lips, "hey, Noush," he whispered, "I've brought Dr Blake to see you, like I promised."

Lucien looked at the woman in the bed. He didn't know what he expected but it wasn't this - she was as fragile as a china doll. Elfin, fair, quite beautiful, her hair was long, braided over each shoulder to keep it out of the way.

"No x-rays," he leafed through the pages, "didn't they take x-rays?"

Jack nodded, "yeah, didn't they send them?"

"Right," Lucien dropped the file on the tray, "let's get some more done first of all." He left to organise the x-rays and some blood tests, it could be anything, from a blow to the head to an infection.

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While they waited for the x-rays Lucien quizzed Jack on the circumstances the day Anoushka had collapsed.

"She was in the field, checking the vines," he paced the floor while Lucien checked her heart rate, temperature and blood pressure, "we run a winery; I was in the office going through some paperwork, the orders for the coming year, and one of the other field hands came running in saying the missus had fainted. I took her into the house but I couldn't rouse her so I called the ambos and they took us to the nearest hospital. It's a small place, we're not in the city, and even when they called somebody in from Albury they couldn't work out why she had collapsed. Doc, I know we have had our differences but with your history I figured you would be the one to find out why and what we do. I want my girl back."

"Well, from what I see they didn't try very hard," Lucien shrugged, "ah, the x-rays," he held out his hand, "let's have a look."

There were no signs of any fractures to Anoushka's skull and her chest x-ray was clear.

"Blood results then," Lucien ran his hand through his hair, "meanwhile, you say she was checking the grapes, any marks on her hands?"

"Yeah, she does that every morning, especially as harvest approaches. We took over from the original owner, he said we knew what we were doing so he would retire - he's in his seventies - keep ownership but retain us as managers of the winery. We have a little cottage that looks over the vines ... anyway her hands, I don't think so."

Lucien inspected each hand and arm closely with a small light and a magnifying glass.

"What're you looking for, doc?"

"Puncture marks, stings, anything that could have provoked an allergic reaction. What insects do you have on the land?"

"Not much, there are mites we have to watch out for damaging the vines but apart from the usual spiders the only thing we've had recently has been mud wasps, but they're not harmful, are they?"

"Not usually but the sting is painful," Lucien move to the other arm, "it all depends on a person's sensitivity. Some people are allergic to wasp and bee stings ..."

"What happens then?"

"Well, the reaction can be anything from severe swelling around the area to shock, inability to breathe, collapse, even - sorry Jack - even death. But, Anoushka has come this far I'm hoping if it is a sting or allergic reaction, it's her body's way of fighting it."

"You know doc," Jack held his wife's hand, "if I hadn't met this lady I would still be the angry man I was when I left Ballarat that time. She may be small but she is as strong as mum and she made me see what an idiot I was and still she stayed by my side. You'd think, looking at us, how tiny she is, that I would be the one protecting her, and I try to, but ..."

"She protects you, probably from yourself, like your mother does to me."

"We're a bit too alike, aren't we, doc?" Jack smiled at him for the first time, "nothing without our girls."

"That we are Jack, that we are ... hello, what's this?" Lucien peered closer at Anoushka's arm, "nip outside and ask the nurse for some fine tweezers, please."

Lucien turned the arm to get a better look. In the crook of her elbow, on a freckle, was a tiny, microscopic mark. Any swelling there might have been had long disappeared but this looked like the site of a sting.

Jack returned with the tweezers in a kidney dish and held it out to the doctor.

"Hold that light there, steady ..." Lucien carefully and very slowly teased the sting out from the freckle and transferred it to the dish with the tweezers. He put it on the trolley and cleaned the site before checking again to see if there was anything else there. There was some redness but nothing to worry about.

"Right," Lucien straightened his back, "I'm going to give her a low dose antihistamine then I'm going to put that under the microscope."

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Lucien left Jack sitting with his wife while he headed to the morgue, where he could work in peace. He would have liked Alice to be in on this one, she was always a little less emotional about such things, but she was busy with Bobby.

He was musing on the sting when the phone rang. At first he ignored it, but then, remembering Alice was not there picked it up and listened. He smiled, "I'll be right there."

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Jack was still holding Anoushka's hand but now she was awake - just.

"She spoke to me, doc," he jumped up and grinned, "just for a second or two, but she woke up and recognised me!" He was like a small boy with a new toy, or Ted with his train set and it made Lucien smile.

"Good, very good," he went over to the bed, "Anoushka, can you hear me? Squeeze my hand if you can, my name is Dr Lucien Blake."

He felt the slight pressure on his hand and nodded, "a little more antihistamine I think," he patted her hand, "shan't be a tick."

Lucien was more than happy, he had solved the mystery of why Anoushka Beazley was in a coma, helped Jack and proved to the younger man that his mother was right to trust him. It was an unusual reaction, but no two patients were the same, every person on the planet was an individual, so why shouldn't she just go into a coma until someone came up with the idea that antihistamine might work? He went back into the room and administered another dose, slightly less than the first, he didn't want to take chances, and both men sat and waited.

"When she's able to leave the hospital, Jack," Lucien checked her pulse, "you must come and stay until she's ready to travel. Jean would want that, and to meet her daughter in law."

"She's got a lot to do, with the kids ..." Jack sighed.

"And when did something like that stop her," Lucien gave a little laugh, "how far do you think we would get if you went to stay in a boarding house or hotel, no," he shook his head, "come and stay with us."

"You've got a point doc," he laughed back, "and I'd like to get to know my step siblings. Ted's a quiet one."

"He's just weighing you up, checking you out. He's very protective, is Ted."

"Right."

"We'll tell you one evening."

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Jean was trying to explain to Ted why Jack had been such an angry young man.

"It was because his father was killed in the war, Ted," she sat in the sun room with him, the girls played in the garden where she could see them. "Jack was very young and he needed a father's hand to guide him. I suppose I wasn't enough, and I was sad because I had lost my husband and he just couldn't cope. He wasn't a bad boy, just lost his way, a bit. But now, now he looks happy and well, I just hope his wife is alright."

"You'll always be enough for me, mum," he wriggled closer and she put her arm round him.

"I hope so Ted, I'll do my best."

"Do your best at what?" Lucien had returned, a spring in his step.

"To be enough for Ted, because I wasn't for Jack."

"Don't think like that, Jean," he bent forward to kiss her, "times were hard then, we all lost our way to a greater or lesser extent. You couldn't be everything and everywhere, you did your best and he seems to have turned out alright."

"What's he doing, now?"

"Running a winery, as a manager," he squeezed next to them, "he and Anoushka."

"That's a pretty name," Ted climbed on Lucien's knee to make more space.

"It is isn't it? And she's a pretty lady but so tiny," his father nodded, "like a china ornament on the mantle-piece. Jack says she's as strong as you, Jean, keeps him in line, but she looks as if she would blow over in a breeze."

"Is she alright?" Jean asked.

"Hopefully, looks like a strange reaction to a mud wasp sting. She has come round but I want her to stay in hospital at least another twenty-four hours. I've suggested Jack stay here and when I release her that they both come to us until she is ready to travel, ok?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, the room we put the double in, when Ted and Julia arrived, I think," Jean made to get up, "the bed needs making and the room needs a quick dust .."

"What can I do to help?" Lucien could see there was no use suggesting she relax.

"Keep the children occupied ..."

"I'll help you mum," Ted wriggled off Lucien's knee, "I want to."

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Ted did his best with the duster, wiping down the vanity unit and the chest of drawers, though Jean did have to do the top. She handed him the bed linen from the cupboard and together they made the bed and put out fresh towels.

"Thank you, Ted," Jean ruffled his hair, "now we'd best get on with dinner."

"What're we having today?"

"Rabbit stew," Jean smiled, "one of Jack's favourites, and dad's a bit partial to it."

Ted licked his lips in anticipation, Lucien and Jack weren't the only ones a 'bit partial' to Jean's rabbit stew.

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Jack arrived home from the hospital with his and Anoushka's belongings, that had been stored in the Ward Sister's office.

He smiled at the familiar smell drifting up the hall and headed straight to the kitchen. He had to smile again at the sight of Ted doing what he used to do about the same age - help his mum prepare the dinner by cutting the peeled potatoes and carrots and throwing them into the dish, passing her things she asked for and taking utensils and plates to the sink ready to be washed.

"Something smells good," he kissed his mother's cheek, "still making the rabbit stew eh, mum?"

"Lucien is fond of it and Ted has discovered a liking for it too," she laughed, "Julia and Amelia pick out the vegetables, I think the meat is a little too strong for them, just yet. How's your wife?" she asked, "on the mend, Lucien suggested."

"Noush is going to be okay, as long as she stays away from mud wasps, it would appear," he picked up a stray slice of carrot and nibbled it, "the doc, I think, went with his gut feeling when I told him what she had been doing that day and what insects we have. He said she has an unusual sensitivity to mud wasps and will prescribe some antihistamine in case it happens again."

"That's good," Jean tipped her head to one side, "I hope you will take up the offer to stay with us before you go back."

"Thanks, mum, as long as it won't be too much ..."

Jean pursed her lips and stared at him.

"...we'd love to," he added, hastily.

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Dinner was quite relaxed, Jack told them all about how he had come to be running a winery, how he had met Anoushka and fallen in love. They hadn't been married long, he said, under a year, but the life suited them and there was room for them to start a family should then want to.

"Do you?" Jean wiped Julia's sticky fingers, "want children."

"We have discussed it but at the moment we are learning to live together as a couple, in the long run we will try," he helped himself to another potato, "if it happens that's good, but we won't be upset if it doesn't, at least we don't think so."

"Time will tell, Jack," she started to pile the plates up, "Matthew and Alice weren't planning on starting a family but ..."

"Still sounds odd to think of him as a father," Jack mused,

"He has two grown up daughters," Lucien stood to help clear the table, "they came over for the wedding, though his younger one is not happy about her father's second marriage."

"Louise was mean," Ted piped up, "she wouldn't tell me how she trained birds."

"Hm," Jean stroked his head, "don't let it bother you, sweetheart, Uncle Matthew and Auntie Alice are happy and that's all that matters."

He nodded.

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Jack headed out to spend visiting time with Anoushka, saying he would be back and they could tell him all about how they came to adopt Ted and Julia and why Ted was so protective of his family and friends.

Jean put the children to bed, fed James and settled him in his cot and Lucien listened to Ted read. They were just sitting down to their evening drinks when Jack came back, He had a broad grin on his face and accepted a whisky from Lucien.

"She's doing great, doc," he raised his glass, "thanks to you. We had a good chat for most of the hour then I saw her settled for the night and made sure the hospital know where I am staying."

"Good, sit down," Lucien smiled with relief, "we'll tell you all about Ted and Julia."

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Jack found the whole story fascinating and saddening that someone treat children they way Pat and Ramsay had treated the two children. He made a mental note that if he and Anoushka were blessed then they would love their children as he and Christopher had been and how his mother and the doctor cared so deeply for their new family.

"Well, all I can say is they are a lucky couple of kids, to have taken the milk off your doorstep."

"We feel much the same way," Lucien smiled.


End file.
